Now and Then
by Crevette
Summary: Change is hard. Especially when it is change not of your own choosing. But sometimes second (or third or even fourth) chances come around. The question then is what do you do about them? Run, or grab hold with both hands with everything you've got. Canon until the end of series 4. AU after that (just as though Fire never happened...)
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**Disclaimer. I don't own Skins. Naomily would never have been put through such fuckery as Fire if I did.**

**Prologue: Some mornings are like magic**

It strikes her suddenly, how every now and then, if you are really lucky, you get a glimpse of what paradise feels like. In between the bits and pieces of the daily grind time seems to slow, as though the whole world has chosen to stop, to let you embrace the moment, to nurture it and to cling to it.

Mornings like that are magic.

She cracks open her eyes, squinting slightly against the sun as it shines down, splashing its rays across the room and causing everything it touches to rise up and glow as it gently warms her skin. Her contentment builds; the warmth of the sun coupled by the warmth of the body in her arms fostering a feeling of well-being that is as deep seated and all-encompassing as it is strange and new (again).

She can barely make herself breathe just in case the noise or movement might break the perfection. She lies still, so very still, and soaks in every detail, her senses working hard to catch it all, to savour each element: the feel, the smell, the touch. But most of all, she looks, hardly daring to believe her eyes, at the woman sleeping soundly, peacefully beside her. Emily. Beautiful, brave, unstoppable, Emily, _finally_ back where she belongs, after so long… after so much… after everything.

Some mornings are like magic. They are the ones when Emily is with her.

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**~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~**

**So, I have been muddling away with this for a while now, and am finally at a point that I feel alright to start posting. Many thanks to Miss Marauder, who has once again agreed to Beta, despite her very busy life, and has already made a number of incredibly helpful contributions. **

**I can't promise that all will go swimmingly in this story. I am more than a bit addicted to angst, as you may have noticed. But, I love Naomily, and can promise at the very least that neither of them will be beset with a terminal illness while in my hands. Come along for the ride, and maybe drop a review to let me know what you think.**


	2. Chapter 2: The Wanting

**Disclaimer. I don't own Skins. Shocking, I know.**

**A/N I'm not going to be able to update anywhere near this quickly going forward, but wanted to move into the story proper sooner rather than later. I hope you enjoy.  
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"God, you're beautiful."

The phrase escapes from Naomi's lips without volition, compelled by the sight before her and the way it – she – makes Naomi's heart pound and glow with warmth and just fucking ache with love.

This is Emily at her most pure; no adornments, no make-up or clothing to hide her perfection. She stands there, naked, with beads of water dripping down her face and chest, skin red from the heat of the water as she steps out of the shower. Naomi wishes that she could stay in this moment forever, but more pedestrian needs prevail. She hands a towel to the stunning redhead, having noticed the first rush of goose bumps flaring from the shock of the cold air against her silken skin.

Emily flashes her most brilliant smile. Naomi knows that it never gets old for Emily, hearing her girlfriend say things like that. But she also knows, because Emily has told her, that it is more the tone of the blonde's voice asnd the obvious attraction and desire it holds that causes such happiness for the sweet redhead. These reminders that Naomi really is past it - past holding back, past keeping Emily at bay, past hiding her feelings and the important events in her life as some sort of misguided defense mechanism - Emily lives for each one, Naomi knows, grasping hold of them and relishing them, always aware of just how much it means that Naomi trusts her like this. It is a gift, Emily thinks; the greatest gift ever. Ever since the shed – just a few short months ago - Emily promised them both never to forget just how much Naomi risks each day to give that gift to her, how much courage it still takes.

"You're biased."

Naomi takes in Emily's words, spoken in the voice she loves so much. Surprise, laughter and want all flicker across her face at the sound, followed closely by determination and raw desire, before she growls her response.

"Fucking right, I am. But you're still beautiful."

With that Naomi closes the scant distance between them, tugging the towel out and away from Emily before pulling her into a close embrace. Their lips touch, just lightly, a tease, before Naomi slips forward to whisper softly in Emily's ear, "I love you."

Emily's breath hitches at the words. She is overjoyed at hearing them fall so easily from Naomi's mouth. Naomi just grins at the reaction she has caused. And then she places her hands slowly, carefully, on her lover's hips, pulling them closer before her fingers trail languidly but oh-so-deliberately upwards along the skin she craves.

"I want you."

The words are almost lost as the blonde nuzzles her cheek into Emily's neck, reveling in the sheer joy of being able to do so. Emily pulls back slightly, reaching up to place a hand on Naomi's cheek, bringing them face to face, their eyes connecting once again. She scans between the gorgeous blues, as she often does now, looking for any hint of doubt, of insecurity, and when she finds none, she nods once, almost imperceptibly, before leaning in to capture Naomi's lips in a searing kiss, full of the desire for more.

"So take me."

A soft moan escapes Naomi's throat at the wanton invitation. She can feel Emily's warm skin under her hands, and dips her head to savour the sweet taste on her tongue, her teeth grazing not so softly across Emily's collar bone. Emily tenses at the contact and a small cry of pleasure escapes her lips. It is perfection, this moment, and full of promise.

Naomi moves them gently to the bed – their bed, in their home, finally and thank fuck – her need for more contact driving her forward. She hovers over Emily for just a moment, taking in every inch of the smaller girl, luxuriating in the sight of her. Naomi begins in earnest then, mapping Emily's body with her fingers and tongue, hitting all the spots she knows so well, bringing her lover ever higher as she does. Emily sighs and moans and shifts and falls apart under her touch over and over and Naomi cannot imagine anything she could ever want more than this. Just this. More and more and more of this.

As Emily finally collapses back against the bed, thoroughly sated and content, Naomi crawls up to lie beside her, curling herself around the woman she loves more than life, embracing her with both arms. She places a soft kiss just under Emily's left ear, and basks in the feeling of comfort and peace this always brings. It is perfect. Just fucking perfect.

The serenity of the moment is shattered by the blaring of an alarm. Naomi startles upwards, her arm lashing out blindly to stop the sound. Her head reels as she struggles to consciousness, all the while fighting to hold onto the peace that she had found.

She reaches out desparately, grasping for Emily, seeking her soft warmth and trying to pull her close. Her eyes search through a foggy haze. But her hands find only the cool, crisp sheets, and her eyes see only the emptiness on what will always be Emily's side of the bed.

"Fucking hell. Fucking, fucking, _fucking_ hell. Not again."

The words drop off to a faint, broken whisper as she falls back into the bleak comfort of the bed, the sense of loss hitting her like a freight train all over again. They still take her by surprise, these mornings. After all this time she should be used to it. But 1287 mornings later and it _still_ manages to sneak up on her, to knock her flat.

It was just a dream.

Just like all the other nights and all the other dreams. The remnants are so vivid that she can still feel Emily in her arms, can still hear the soft moans of her desire. She can smell and taste the tart flavour of her arousal, she would swear to it. The images come back to her in rush as she relives touching Emily, making her cum again and again, with her tongue and teeth and hands, even as she realizes that it isn't real. Emily isn't there, and hasn't been for more than 3 years.

She can't understand why her mind clings to the old memories so tenaciously, forcing her to live through waking up morning after morning still believing that she's snuggled warm in Emily's arms, only to face the shock - the heart-rending, stomach dropping shock - that she will never wake in Emily's arms again. Because Emily left. Again. And this time no amount of heart-felt words could fix it.

It's cruel, the way her mind plays these games in her sleep. It's just cruel. She should let it go. Somehow, she should find a way to move on. And yet… she doesn't. She hasn't. She can't.

But the world keeps turning regardless. Naomi's had her fair share of letting it pass her by, but these days she at least _tries_ to make an effort. And so, as she lies there wrapped up in the warm blankets of her bed, she struggles to convince herself that it's worth getting up. It's not like her bed is a safe place for her these days anyway, and so, eventually, she does. The alternative is another lost day feeling sorry for herself and even she has lost patience with that after one (or 100 or 1000) too many of those days.

Her boss lost patience a lot sooner still. The only reason she still has a job at all is because she's so bloody good at it. But one more "sick" day and she's likely to be out on her ass instead of claiming the partnership prize that's currently dangling just out of reach.

So, instead of burrowing further under the blankets the way she wants to, Naomi dashes the nascent tears from her eyes, as pain and frustration war with determination and resolve for dominance over her actions. She slips her warm feet onto the cold floor and she shivers slightly in the chilly air, the only drawback she has ever found to sleeping naked. The shock of the cold is raw and uncomfortable, but still so much better than the shock of remembering. She shakes her head to try to make the memories fade (they never completely leave) as if they are simply fleeting ghosts that she can make disappear by sheer force of will. If only that were so.

Naomi walks slowly, gingerly, to the bathroom. She consciously avoids looking at her reflection in the mirror over the sink, preferring not to know just how tired and lost she looks this morning, and instead climbs slowly, deliberately into the shower, and gets on with getting ready for the day, pausing only to adjust the water before sliding under its rejuvenating force. This part of her day, at least, is easy, uncomplicated. Lather, rinse, repeat. Simple. Impossible to fuck up. Unlike almost everything else in her life

The bracing spray of the shower breaks her train of thought, thankfully, and Naomi can feel herself starting to wake up. Once she's clean and alert, the cobwebs banished from her mind, she starts thinking through her day as she dries off in the tiny space. It's mostly meetings; back to back check-ins and witness prep sessions for the various cases that will come to trial in the coming days and weeks. It's all old hat to her now, the thrill of her first days as a barrister long gone. But it pays the bills, and keeps her mind occupied, so she doesn't complain. At least not too much.

She's running late this morning so she dresses quickly. It's almost a stereotype, the "uniform" that she wears: Today it's black pinstripe trousers and a matching tailored jacket, crisply starched white button down shirt and black pumps. A person passing her on the street would probably be able to guess that she's a solicitor just from the outfit. Rather than taking the time to properly dry and style her hair into something more sophisticated, she opts for a messy ponytail, clipping her fringe back to keep it out of her eyes. Her hair is brown now, the platinum blonde look she used to love sacrificed to the god of a more "professional" image.

With no time to make breakfast at home, she grabs a muffin and black coffee to go from her favourite bakery. It's a quaint little hole in the wall just down the street from the apartment, all mismatched tables and chairs, and oddly coloured walls (lime green and fuchsia stand out the most). But it's bright and airy and comfortable. It's run by two women in their 60s, Casey and Sue, who've been together for more than three decades. Noami goes there for the great food and strong coffee, mostly. But she knows deep down that she also goes to be reminded that love can actually win; maybe not often, but sometimes. She needs that.

Hot black coffee clutched in her too cold hands, she walks the four blocks to her office while mentally running through her schedule for the rest of her day. Her meetings should wrap up by 5 p.m., and then… Well, then she has an appointment with a counselor at 6. Fuck.

Her doctor suggested months ago that she try talking to someone to deal with her increasing anxiety instead of immediately prescribing medication for it. Naomi's not one for taking pills - at least not the prescribed, legal kind - so she agreed, reluctantly. But then, as has somehow become normal for her, she procrastinated for weeks before actually doing something about it. She's never been one for therapy, thinking it wishy-washy and somehow a sign of weakness despite how open her mother has always been to the concept. But if she's honest with herself (and she is actually trying to be that more often these days), Naomi knows that she's perilously close to being chronically and clinically depressed, as well as overwhelmed by anxiety and stress, and is getting closer every day.

Even litigation, that forum for intellectual debate that she is so exceptionally good at, and used to love so much, now causes her more stress and apprehension than she can tolerate. Her life of long work days striving for partnership, fueled only by take away food and insufficient sleep is not really helpful in that regard. So, despite the many uncomfortable connotations that counseling holds for her, she's decided to just get over herself and to give it a try. It can't hurt, really, she thinks, and perhaps it might help. Something has to.

Still, the thought of the session – and god, she's going to have to find another name for it than that because "session" just makes her want to vomit – the very thought of it causes her stomach to clench and her brow to furrow. She hates the idea; flat out hates that she can't seem to handle what her life has become on her own, that she will have to talk about "feelings" and "emotions" and… Fuck. She just hates the whole thing. But she is resigned to it. Because something has to change and it seems like this is the only option she has left.

By the time she's completed her musings, she's arrived at the Clarkson building where she works. She waves hello to Jim, the quiet, unassuming security guard keeping watch over the front door, and flashes her name-tag credentials without really paying any attention to doing either. This has become so routine that she hardly notices any of it any more. She uses the tag again on the elevator control box to gain access to the 29th floor and the law offices of Jenkins Rawlins, the firm she has been with for her entire career so far.

She started there a few months after the break up, and she knows that's why she agreed to work there, at a firm whose philosophy is so different from her own. She was not quite herself at the time, and if she had been, she wouldn't have given the offer a second thought. But, it was the only offer she had then and it seemed like an easy solution to the crisis she was in. She thinks, once again, how she should probably start considering looking for a new job. But just the idea of the effort that would require exhausts her, and she files it away for another day.

The elevator doors open to the usual hustle and bustle and murmur of voices as she steps out of the car into the lush, well-appointed lobby. It is imposing, intentionally so, the firm wanting to make a good impression on clients and potential clients from the moment they arrive. The opulence is clear from the gleaming hardwood of the reception desk, to the silken marble tile underfoot, and the leather upholstery that encases the over-size chairs and sofas placed around the area with precision. She wonders sometimes if the clients realize that it is they who pay the bill for this luxury. The firm's billing rates could be so much lower, so much more manageable, if they offered comfortable but modest surroundings instead of enveloping themselves with richness at their clients' expense.

She shakes her head, realizing that her mother would be proud at the path her thoughts have taken this morning, but that they do nothing to help her reconcile herself to another day spent in service to this place and the partners who run it. For now, she needs to just buckle down and work. Philosophical debates about fair service for fair fees and access to justice for all will have to wait.

Hours later her assistant, Samantha, quietly places a sandwich under her nose, muttering a gentle, "You should eat something, Naomi," and she consumes it mindlessly as she continues to work, raising her eyes just long enough to say "thank you." She's lucky to have Sam, and she knows it. Sam is kind and efficient, a combination that is rare at Jenkins Rawlins. But, their interaction is fleeting. There's an endless pile of legal briefs and expert reports on her desk to plough through, as well as time to enter and invoices to check. The paperwork is never-ending, and always makes her shudder when she thinks of the number of trees that must have been killed to make the pages she goes through in the run of a day. She forces her thoughts back to the documents that she's reviewing, and tries to digest the key principles that they contain.

It's just another day in a long line of other days. Nothing to break the monotony or to give her hope that anything about her work will ever change. She feels like a cog, a nameless, faceless cog, churning out endless opinions and commentaries about subjects and issues about which she cares not one whit. This is not what she imagined when she studied law. She wanted to help people, real people with real problems, not companies that just want to save another pound or two or reduce their tax load or avoid liability for their actions. This is not what she imagined at all.

Nothing in her life is how she imagined it, really. Nothing is what she wants it to be. And if she's honest, really stripped-bare-honest, she knows that the only one who can change that is her. Intellectually, she knows. She really does. She knows that she needs to make changes, to stop punishing herself for losing Emily by letting her life drift this way. She knows that she did not actually _do_ anything to deserve punishment at all, not this time. But knowing and doing and feeling are each such very different things.

At long last, Sam tucks her head in before heading home to tell her that it's 5 o'clock, which is a good thing as Naomi would have forgotten her evening appointment and missed it completely otherwise. They wish each other good night, and Sam leaves, closing the door once again behind her.

After a pause to gather herself, the young lawyer starts organizing her desk so that she won't have to arrive to a disaster area tomorrow. She can at least save herself from that. The piles don't seem any smaller despite the fact that she spent all afternoon trying to work through them. But it's been a relatively good day, all in all. Her clients are happy – at least no one yelled at her today - and she knows that she's making progress despite the lack of obvious visual confirmation. So, she grabs her coat and purse and heads towards the elevators once again.

As she walks, she briefly considers calling Cook, her best mate, her only mate really, to see if he'd join her for supper after her… appointment. But she knows that any time spent with him is likely to end up with drinks and probably drugs and dancing until closing time, followed by a ferocious hang-over. She absolutely has to work tomorrow so she elects to wait to call Cook until the weekend. Time enough to get trashed then, she reasons.

So, take away for one and bad reality t.v. until she's exhausted enough to have some chance of falling asleep despite the mocking of her cold, empty bed.

Just like last night. And many, many nights before.

But first**, **there is an hour of excruciating self-assessment and painful spewing of feelings about Emily - always and forever Emily - to get through. It's funny, now, to think that there was a time when an hour to talk about Emily was a welcome thing. God, how she wishes that time could come again.

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**So, I did mention that there would be angst, right? Yeah, I thought so. But it will get cheerier… eventually. **

**Leave a review to let me know what you think, if you have a moment. And thanks for reading.**


	3. Chapter 3: Reunion

**I don't own Skins. Such is life.**

_**Now**_

Naomi walks out of her office building under the darkening sky, deep in thought. If she doesn't hurry she'll be late for her counseling appointment, so she tries to find the energy to move a little faster. Her anxiety about the appointment is rising and deep breaths just aren't cutting it. She spots a shop on the corner and decides to buy a pack of fags. She hasn't smoked for months (her hacking cough had finally reached a point that she could not ignore) but knows that there's no way she'll get through these next hours without some kind of crutch. Fags are the quickest and easiest option, so in she goes.

She checks the time when she steps back onto the pavement, and sighs. She'll have to take a taxi now. But smoke first. She lights the fag with shaking hands and draws deep. It hits her hard, making her light-headed. She laughs wryly at that. Who would ever have thought that a simple cigarette could affect her that way? Times certainly have changed. But the acrid smoke slows her heart and calms her nerves just a bit as it settles deep into her lungs. A few more draws and she feels almost okay, almost stable. So, she rubs out the butt with her shoe and moves forward to hail a hack. She is just about to grab the latch on the classic black cab when she senses someone approaching from her right, aiming for the same door.

Naomi braces herself to physically block the slighter woman from the cab door – she is, after all, late for her appointment - when the all too familiar voice stops her cold.

"Naomi? Jesus. You're… Christ! It's really you…"

It's hard to say who is more surprised. The woman's voice falters as she takes in the figure of Naomi Campbell standing there before her after all this time. Naomi has not yet moved or spoken. The woman is thrown, for sure, but Naomi is quite obviously reeling from the shock, frozen by this wholly unexpected blast from her most unwelcome past. It has been years. Too long, obviously, with too many difficult days in between.

"Okay. Right. Let's… Um. Can you….? Look, come with me, okay? Just for a minute. We'll find a place to talk. Someplace private… Will you come with me, Naomi?"

Naomi doesn't answer, too surprised to speak, but she does move to follow after a short, undecided pause. The cab driver's angry honk resounds as he screeches away, realizing that he has just gone from two fares to none, but the women don't notice. They have eyes only for each other, the furtive, skirting glances revealing their mutual uncertainty. The other woman recovers most quickly, as usual, and beckons Naomi to follow her. A short walk brings them to a restored brownstone that has been converted for offices and storefronts.

"In here. This is where I work."

The walk up the outside stairs and enter through massive double doors, passing a reception area on the way to a small, comfortable office. There is a window overlooking the street, next to a tidy desk. Two comfortable looking black chairs and a file cabinet make up the remainder of the furnishings. It's sparse, but not Spartan, and if the circumstances were different Naomi would feel quite relaxed in the surroundings. But right now she is feeling anything but relaxed.

"Would you sit, Naomi?"

She reads the lingering hesitancy in Naomi's reaction, and clarifies. "Just to talk. I'd like to… could we just talk? Please?"

Naomi's mind is whirling, still trying to catch up with this turn of events and the masses of memories that it evokes. It is strange, meeting her now, as if Naomi's decision to get help, to try to address the lingering effects of those long-gone days has conjured the brunette out of thin air.

Effy fucking Stonem, in the flesh.

She looks good, Naomi thinks: professional, studious almost, with sleek black glasses shrouding her eyes and her hair pulled back into a silky bun, and a tight, well-tailored black skirt and jacket over a white silk blouse. She certainly looks better than Naomi feels right now.

In a bit of a daze, Naomi nods and moves towards one of the chairs. Her legs virtually collapse beneath her as she gives in to the overwhelming need to sit down. She stares at her hands, which are clasped tightly around her knees, and focusses on trying to calm her breathing. She's on the verge of a major panic attack, unable to handle the wave of emotions, and she knows from experience that it will be bad unless she can get it under control before it truly sets in.

She is startled by the feel of Effy's hand touching her wrist as the woman crouches down at Naomi's feet, looking up to try to catch Naomi's eye.

"Breathe deeply, Naomi. Slowly and deeply. In and out. It's alright. You're alright. Just breathe and try to relax a bit."

Effy's voice is soft, soothing. It holds no hint of judgment or even concern for that matter. It's calm, neutral. And that helps, somehow. Naomi can feel the panic fade, bit by bit. She's by no means comfortable, but she is slowly coming back under control.

"I'd like to get you some water. Will you be alright if I step out for a moment?"

Naomi nods, feeling more than a little embarrassed that Effy feels she is so fragile that she had to ask, and more than a little pissed off that she has let herself look that vulnerable, too. Effy rises to her feet and slips out the door. It isn't long before she returns; not nearly long enough for Naomi to wrap her head around what is going on.

"Here. Drink this."

Naomi takes the glass, barely noticing the cold against her palms, and sips. It's a relief, soothing the dryness in her mouth and throat that her tortured breathing during the near attack has caused.

"Thank you."

"Of course."

The silence that descends then is uncomfortable, broken only by the occasional sound of Naomi's sipping.

"Do you feel better now?"

Naomi's eyes flick up towards Effy's for the briefest moment before falling once again to land on the glass clutched tightly in her hands.

"Yes. Thank you."

"I'm sorry to have shocked you so."

"It's alright. I'm sure I was a shock to you as well." The short, bitter laugh that escapes her resounds heavily in the small room, and prompts another silence between them.

"I… would you…? Look, this is ridiculous. You're my friend. At least you were. Would you join me for a coffee? Or tea? To catch up… There's a little place not far from here…"

Naomi looks up at Effy again, taking the time to really look this time. She wonders what Effy wants, but from what she can see Effy seems sincere. And in truth, Naomi has missed her. She's missed a lot of people from before, Cook being the only one she kept in her life after the break-up. It seemed easier then, cutting ties. But given how fucked her life has become since, maybe it wasn't that easy at all. Maybe, just maybe, the time has come try to fix some of it. So, after some hesitation, she quietly agrees.

"Yeah. Alright."

Naomi watches as Effy's eyes light up with relief. Effy's not so good at masking her feelings any more, it seems. Or perhaps she's chosen to let Naomi in, just this once. Naomi isn't sure which. But she's glad to feel that Effy might actually want to reconnect. They were close before everything fell apart. Maybe it could even be nice to be close again.

Effy stands to grab her purse, holding the door open for Naomi to pass through before her. Naomi notices without really noticing that they are in a property management office, and wonders fleetingly what Effy does there. From the look of her office and the custom fit of her clothes it must be something important and lucrative. Naomi makes a mental note to ask about it later. That is something an old acquaintance would do, she thinks, ask about work. She'll save it for when the inevitable awkward lull in conversation hits.

Effy didn't lie. The coffee shop, though generic, is close by and comfortable. They order tea and move to a small table in the corner. They cover the slight discomfort between them with the doffing of coats and doctoring of drinks. Effy is again the one to break the quiet.

"You look good, when you're not hyperventilating that is." The smirk Naomi remembers so well takes the sting out of the words, and she finds herself smiling back.

"Thanks. You too."

"I don't mean to pry, Naomi. If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. It's just… you looked so upset, in my office, and… Well. You looked upset."

Naomi delays her answer by taking time to blow softly across her still hot tea, before taking a first, welcome sip.

"I'll admit, I've been better. Bit of a surprise, seeing you after so long."

Effy waits, hoping that Naomi will say more, give some clue as to what she is thinking. But Naomi resumes the close inspection of her tea cup instead, so Effy pulls out the most innocuous thing she can think to ask in an effort to get Naomi to relax, just a bit.

"What are you doing with yourself these days?"

"Oh, me? I, uh… Barrister. I'm a barrister. With a big firm downtown. Not far from here, actually. Mostly corporate stuff, some personal injury defense. It's alright. Seems I'm good at it."

Effy wonders how Naomi, of all people, could have ended up doing corporate work, but decides that questioning her about that might not be the best way to start this conversation, and so she lets it go.

"Do you ever see any of the old gang?" Effy knows the answer, at least most of it, but wants to hear how Naomi will answer it.

"Um…Cook. Just Cook." Naomi glances at her companion, wondering what reaction she will get to Cook's name, but Effy just smiles, no hint of surprise or distress crossing her face.

"I always wondered where he ended up. How is he?"

Naomi hunts for any sign of discomfort in Effy's demeanour, but finds none. It seems that Effy really holds no hard feelings for her ex despite the difficult way they split up.

"Good. He's good. He owns a small bike courier company here in the legal district. Mostly serves the law firms and courts, which is funny really, given his record. He's done really well for himself. He's my best friend. He puts up with my shit, you know?"

"Yeah. We all need one of those, don't we?"

"I'd be lost without him."

Her words are genuine and heartfelt, but Naomi feels a little uncomfortable discussing Cook with Effy, not knowing how he'd feel about that. So, she turns the focus back to Effy instead.

"How about you? Do you see any of the old gang?"

Effy hesitates before answering, trying to gauge how much she should reveal.

"Yes, I do. Panda and Thomas. JJ sometimes. And Katie."

This last is spoken more softly, begging, as it does, the next, obvious question. The question remains unspoken, though, as Naomi deliberately and at significant cost, forces herself not to ask it. The struggle is apparent, though, and Effy is not one to miss the obvious. She reaches across the table and places her hand gently over Naomi's, squeezing lightly.

"How long is it since you've seen her?"

A casual observer might presume that Effy is still referring to Katie, but Naomi knows better. The loaded question is directed squarely at Katie's twin, and Effy has left little room for Naomi to evade it. That coupled with the unexpected touch is too much; too much and _way_ too fucking soon. Naomi extricates her arm none too gently from beneath Effy's hand, and leans further across her seat away from where Effy sits, her stony glare clearly conveying just how unwelcome this subject is.

"Not since that night."

Effy leans back, too, Naomi's nonverbal message coming across loud and clear. But Effy has never been known to be swayed by something so innocuous as a glare, so she pushes again, to see how far she can go – how far Naomi will _let_ her go.

"Katie told me about it. She said it was awful."

Naomi drops her chin, her head turning away from Effy as she curls even more into herself. Her voice is cold, sharp when she finally responds, very clearly cutting off this topic of discussion. "Yeah. It was. But it's old news. Old and done."

Effy is relieved and glad to see this flash of anger, to get a glimpse of the Naomi she remembers, the strong, sharp-edged woman she was rather than the fragile, uncertain woman she has seemed so far tonight. It is clear that the past years have wrought harm on Naomi, but her old friend is still in there despite it all and Effy couldn't be more pleased to see it.

Another pause falls between them, Effy giving Naomi time to recover from the wave of memories that have quite obviously beset her at the mention of Emily despite Naomi's best efforts to hide it. Effy knows that the line she was pushing towards has been reached, at least for now, and so rather than crossing it, she retreats, quietly sipping her milky tea, and leaves it to Naomi to break the silence.

"So, you still talk to Katie?"

Effy is curious about why Naomi would choose Katie to talk about; curious and a little wary.

"Yes. Quite a lot."

Effy decides in that moment not to share the fact that she and Katie live together, having chipped in to lease a place together a couple of years earlier. She also decides not to share that fact that Emily is a frequent visitor there, although she has become a mere shadow of her former self, as well. Effy feels a touch of guilt at the deception, but knows that Emily would not want Effy to speak of her to Naomi. At least, not now. Not yet. Effy's thoughts about the two women are interrupted by Naomi's slightly sneering voice.

"Is Katie still the same old man-whore she used to be then?"

Effy feels her hackles rise at that. No one insults Katie in her presence.

"You don't know her any more, Naomi. She's not the girl you remember. And I'll ask you not to speak of her that way."

Naomi is taken aback by the sharpness of Effy's tone. She realizes quickly that she has inadvertently hit a sore nerve, and apologizes for it.

"I'm sorry. You're right. I'm sure we've all grown up since then. So, um, what did Katie make of herself? What's she doing these days?"

Effy smiles, her pride in the older twin coming through clearly. "She went back to school a couple of years ago. Got a degree in early childhood education, and started her own daycare. She's really good at it. The kids love her to bits."

Naomi's astonishment is evident. "Really? I never saw Katie as the motherly type."

"You'd be surprised." There is great fondness in Effy's small, wistful grin, but Naomi misses it, her thoughts too inwardly focused for such observances.

The talk of Katie reminds Effy that she's supposed to be home in just a few minutes. As it is, she's going to be late, and she'd very much rather avoid any awkward questions about why if she can.

"Look, Naomi, I'm really sorry but I have to go. I'd like to keep in touch, though, if you're up for it."

Despite her uncertainty, after the smallest of hesitations, Naomi agrees. She could not explain why, for certain. It just feels like the right thing to do.

"Here, give me your phone. I'll put my number in and you can call or text if you feel like it, alright, Naomi? No rush. No pressure at all."

Naomi nods, words escaping her once again. She hands over her phone, feeling a little dazed by all that has transpired so unexpectedly. She accepts the light peck that Effy drops on her cheek on her way out the door, the warmth of the gesture breaking through some – though not nearly all - of her reticence. Then she sits contemplating for a moment before doing the only thing she can think of that might help her to get through the rest of the night without losing it.

No counseling session, not tonight. She couldn't handle that now. And no solitary take away and bad t.v. either. That won't help. No, she's in search of escape, fast and complete. Her past has been shoved full throttle down her throat tonight. She'll need to face it at some point, especially if she's going to see Effy again. And she should face it. She knows she should. But not tonight. She can't deal with it tonight. Instead, she dials the phone.

"Cook? Yeah, it's me." She listens to his greeting, and casual inquiry of "What's up," before asking for what she thinks she needs.

"Let's go fucking mental."

She moves into the night, heading for the oblivion it offers, with Cook's enthusiastic reply still ringing in her ears.

Cook doesn't ask why she'd called. He never does. He just gives her time to get home and change and then meets her at her front door. He only has to take one look at her to know what kind of night this is going to be. "Mental" is an understatement. So, he pulls her into a bear hug, then throws her over his shoulder kicking and screaming and carries her to the nearest half-way decent club. Once her feet find the floor again, she belts him one, hard, and he can just make out her, "What the fuck, Cook?" over the din of the crowd and the booming bass. He expected no less from her, so he just laughs, cackles really, and answers, "Time to get munted!"

The place is crowded, with sweaty dancing bodies everywhere, so he grabs Naomi's hand to make sure they don't get separated. He hauls her up to the bar, leaning half-way across it to catch the eye of the mint-looking bartender, and buys her a half a dozen shooters: Tequila to start, then vodka. There'll be no screwing around tonight. They're heading straight to trashed as fast as possible, so he discretely hands Naomi a couple of pills and another drink to chase them down with before even leaving the bar. She takes them without comment or hesitation. Once Naomi has a decent buzz under way, he drags her onto the dance floor and doesn't let her leave until she can barely stand, let alone think.

Then he carries her home again, much more gently this time, held bridal-style in his strong arms, and places her carefully in her bed. He makes sure to leave water and a couple of paracetamol on the side table. She will need it in the morning. Once that is taken care of, he stops for a moment, looking down at her where she sleeps. He loves her, Cook does. Not in a romantic way, but in a "you are my best fucking friend and I'd do anything in the world for you" kind of way. There is no one else in his life like Naomi. So, he smooths the hair from her brow, and pulls the covers up a little higher under her chin, before lightly kissing her forehead and slipping out of the room.

He'll sleep on the couch tonight, in case she gets sick. And he'll make sure that she gets up in time to get to work. Because she's Naomi, and he's Cook, and that is what they do. He just hopes that someday maybe they won't have to do it quite like this, or quite this often. That maybe, he'll see Naomi smile in a way that she truly means, instead of just masking her pain.

The sun is blinding when Naomi jolts awake at the sound of her alarm the next morning, even through the curtains. She groans, her teeth grinding down at the pain in her head, and holds herself still until the nausea eases. When she can move without fear of puking, she slowly shifts her feet to the floor, her head locked in her hands for support. She sighs in relief when she sees the water and pills that Cook left for her. She swallows them, emptying the glass in one go. After a moment to see whether the water and meds would stay down, she hauls herself to the shower, standing under the hot water until she starts to feel marginally alive.

She dons her pinstriped armour and puts on her face, taking more effort than usual to try to hide the cavernous dark circles under her eyes. She feels like shit warmed over, and there's not enough make-up in the world to hide it this morning.

Once dressed, Naomi wanders into the flat's living room, not at all surprised to find Cook snoring away on the couch. The sight of him brings a wisp of a smile to her face. He stayed. And that means so much to her.

She takes a moment to look around the impressive flat. It's expensive and filled with expensive things – the leather couch, the art on the walls, even a few first edition books - but it does not feel like home to her. It never has. No matter how many knick knacks she buys or how many meals she cooks here, or how many movies she watches and bottles she empties, it just doesn't feel right. As she looks around it, she remembers the last place that ever really made her feel at home, the only place, really, where she was truly happy: the tiny, run-down house she bought with Emily all those years ago. And she knows that it was more the person than the place that made it home.

.

.

**.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.**

**Many thanks to Miss Marauder for her words of wisdom about this chapter, and the over-all structure of the story. I've lost count of how many revisions I made her read for this one, but she never once complained! And her input was invaluable, as always.**


	4. Chapter 4: Ours

**Thanks to each of you who have taken the time to read the chapters so far, and especially those of you who have written reviews or PMs or both to let me know what you think. To those of you who reviewed as guests, I cannot respond directly, but please know that I do appreciate it. And to the guest who said this is the first fanfiction story you have read, I am honoured! I hope you like it.**

**Don't own it. Nope. Not even a little bit.**

**Chapter 4 – "Ours"**

…_**Then**_

It was just a little shit box, she remembers. But it was theirs - or "ours" as they called it.

They had seen literally dozens of places before finding it, everything from complete dumps that smelled of old cat piss and rotten garbage to beautiful homes well outside their budget. They started out just window shopping for fun. It was a cheap way to entertain themselves on fine days. But after a while the wanting set in. They both felt it, although, of course, it was Emily who first found the courage to talk about it.

"Maybe we should think about buying one of these," she said quietly, almost rhetorically, but not quite. Not really. "I mean, someday, you know. It's fine here, don't get me wrong, but… Well, it'd be nice to have a place of our own, don't you think?"

And Naomi _did_ think. She'd never have said it unless Emily did, but once the cat was out of the bag she went all in. And it was completely insane. She knew that too. They'd only been in London for a year, and Naomi had at least 5 more to go before she'd have her LLB. But she couldn't bring herself to care. The allure of the idea of owning a home - a real home – with Emily was too much for her to resist. You'd have thought she was the fucking queen of house hunting the way she went at it. She read classifieds and online listings and talked to estate agents and spent every weekend and more than a few week nights hauling Emily all over London checking out possible houses that they could purchase and make their own.

They needed something cheap, obviously. Really cheap, with Naomi still in school. But they wanted something special, too.

What they eventually found fit the bill. It was small, and old, more than a little run-down, and really too far from the tube to be at all practical, but it just _felt_ right from the moment they walked in. Well, actually, from the first moment they saw the bright purple, rounded front door just fucking covered with ivy and the small front garden filled with perfectly complementing pink rose bushes. Emily practically squealed with delight when she saw that little perk.

It had heart, the little house, and it felt like home in a way the dingy little apartment near the University never had. They could both imagine a future there. It was ridiculous really, how easily it happened in the end. Emily started planning the furniture layout before they'd even made their way all the way through the first floor. And Naomi had already decided what paint colours they'd use before she fell asleep that first night.

And so they bought it, with more than a little help from Gina, who co-signed the mortgage, and Rob, who loaned them the down-payment (which Emily was fairly sure he had not told Jenna), and whispered "no rush to pay it back, Love", in Emily's ear when he passed it over). It was crazy, and even with the financial help the payments were still going to be a challenge. But they loved it, and it represented a dearly held dream coming true, and so they dove in with both feet. They moved their few, and mostly second hand belongings into it as soon as they could. Katie instantly dubbed it the "twat squat" when she heard about it, but even that couldn't dampen their enthusiasm.

Moving day was an unusually hot day in late August, just before Naomi's classes resumed. She was heading into her second year at the London School of Economics and Political Science. She'd been accepted everywhere she applied, but she chose LSE because it had great pre-law and law programs. Naomi had considered studying politics, but decided that she could do more to bring about actual, practical change by taking on issues and helping people one legal case at a time.

Emily had wanted Naomi to be able to concentrate on her studies, and she at the time wasn't sure what she wanted to study, so the determined redhead took on the task of making enough money to pay the bills for them both. And work she did. She had three jobs and between them worked more than 50 hours a week. They had needed the money even when they were just paying rent, her ever-supportive mother having insisted from the very beginning that if they were going to do this "idiotic thing" by living together they would have to do it on their own. It was harder still once the mortgage payments kicked in, but they managed.

In the mornings Emily waited tables at the diner around the corner, Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoons she worked the cash at the local Tesco, and whenever she could she picked up other temp jobs to fill in the gaps. The most recent one was waitressing large catering events at a local hotel. She hated that one the most because it kept her out so late that she barely ever saw Naomi at all. But money was money, and they needed all they could get. She'd been told it could turn into a permanent gig, too, so she was determined to do it right. And besides, it was only for a while, right? She could put up with anything for a while. Or so she thought.

About a month after they moved into the new house they were guilted into going back to Bristol to a "poncy fucking gallery crawling with arrogant arseholes" (as Naomi so delicately put it) for an opening. Katie was working at the gallery part-time and went full on diva bitch about them going to the opening so that she would know someone there (Effy not being trusted not to make a scene by pointing out the obvious douche-baggery and arse-holiness of the assembled crowds), and because she had not seen Emily in weeks.

Naomi was willing to tolerate Katie now, because of what a good friend Katie had turned out to be for Effy. For almost the whole year after college, most of Katie's time was spent taking care of Effy (at least as much as Effy would let herself be taken care of, which wasn't much). Naomi would never admit it, but the fact that Katie was there for Effy during that time is what allowed the blonde to feel alright about moving to London.

Effy had lost it again after Freddie died and Cook had to go on the run. She was re-hospitalized for a bit, and Katie resumed her daily visits right away. Then, when Effy was released, Katie just kept on visiting her at home. It had become part of her routine, and really, she didn't quite know what she would have done with herself if she had stopped. Theirs was a strange relationship. Katie would talk, and Effy wouldn't. Effy would smoke or toke and Katie wouldn't. But they each took comfort from the other, and slowly, ever so slowly, Effy got better. Naomi had to admit that she was grateful to her lover's twin for that. Although she'd be fucked if she'd admit it out loud.

Katie, on the other hand, would have likely preferred that Naomi just stayed home so she and Emily could have some alone twin time. But as much as Naomi hated the whole idea of being in a room full of wankers pretending they knew anything about art, she was not going to miss a chance to stand by and take scathing verbal swipes at them all. She was hoping to out-do even Effy's thwarted accomplishments in that area, if truth be known, (and Katie be-damned – Naomi wasn't _that_ grateful). That was a level of fun the blonde would not willingly miss.

The trip to Bristol was uneventful, other than a short run in with a particularly cranky sales agent at the train station. They were staying with Gina for obvious reasons, and just had time to drop their bags, change and say hello (with the requisite embarrassment for Naomi at the hands of her mother) before heading to the gallery. Naomi had opted for a simple, boxy-cut L.B.D. and shin-high red dock martins. Emily was in an artfully torn black band shirt over leggings and ballet flats. They might have been going to a glitzy art opening, but they had no intention of buying into the whole "only the rich and beautiful can appreciate art" bullshit.

The place was packed when they arrived. There were so many bodies in the tiny shop that it was hard to find a vantage point to see the paintings that were supposed to be the whole reason for the gathering. It was worth the effort, though. Once they had grabbed a couple of champagne flutes and elbowed their way towards the gallery walls they were stunned by the talent on display. The artist was amazing, and the art… it was breath-taking. Naomi was normally not one for landscapes, thinking them generally pedestrian and uninspiring. But these landscapes were not like that. These landscapes lived and breathed and evoked very strong emotions indeed. Katie, watching from across the room, was amused to see Naomi Campbell actually rendered mute by the sight before her. She made a mental note to torment the blonde about that later.

Naomi, for her part, was just overwhelmed. She was trying to marshal her thoughts into some kind of order when she heard a soft gasp from beside her.

"Naomi, look!"

Emily was pointing, her hand shaking, at a small framed painting perched on a glossy black shelf just to Naomi's left. Naomi hadn't noticed it yet, having been captured first by the larger, bolder works. But as soon as she shifted her gaze as directed she knew exactly what caused that gasp. It was beautiful. And it could have been a twin of the lake. _Their_ lake.

The artist had captured so much in so little space. The sun shone gold through the leaves of the scattered trees and danced across the deep blue water as the ripples bent and warped the rays with abandon. There was just enough cloud to provide shadow, and the resulting contrast with the light added incredible depth to the scene. There were vibrant wildflowers of all colours sprinkled throughout, and just a hint of a trail at the top corner that drew your eyes, and almost begged you to imagine where it might take you. It was stunning.

Naomi could not pull her eyes away. She was flooded with memories of that first night with Emily, and of the next, terrible morning. She shook her head, trying to shake the ghost of self-loathing that struck her every time she remembered walking away from Emily that day. She felt herself grounded, brought back to the here and now as she sensed Emily's hand slip into hers, gripping softly, conveying the message that Emily knew where Naomi's thoughts had gone, and that they – Emily and Naomi - were okay. With that, Naomi could let go the bad memories, and embrace again the good ones.

There was so much about that night that was precious to her, that would always be precious to her. She remembered vividly the first feel of Emily's lips on hers, of Emily's soft hands brushing along her skin. She blushed, heat overtaking her as the wave of more intimate thoughts crashed through. Emily just grinned, a soft, "Mmmm" her only comment. But she knew exactly where Naomi's mind had just gone, and she was more than happy to join her in the ride down that particular memory lane.

"We should buy it."

The words were out of Naomi's mouth before she knew she was going to say it. It was a ridiculous notion, and completely unlike her to even consider. They were broke, all their savings destined to cover food and mortgage payments, books and tuition. But it seemed like synchronicity, finding the painting there that night. It seemed like destiny in some small way. She felt like a complete git for thinking it (not to mention the discomfort that came with thinking something quite so Gina-like), but she couldn't quite imagine leaving the painting behind. She realized that the reaction it evoked probably had more to do with Emily and their lake than _this_ artist and _this_ lake, but she didn't care. And so, she took a deep breath, and said it again.

"Really. We should buy it."

"Can we afford it?"

"No. Not at all. Not even fucking close, really. There'll be no takeaway or clubs or even drinkable wine for months if we do it. But… I think it's supposed to be ours."

Emily looked over at her then, surprised (and more than a little pleased) by such a romantic comment coming from her oh-so-pragmatic girlfriend. She looked back to the painting, with the beginnings of a smile crossing her face.

"Alright then. Let's find out how we go about doing that."

Emily gave Naomi's hand one last squeeze before breaking free to find her sister. If anyone would know whether and how they could buy the little painting, it would be Katie. Once she tracked her down, the older twin looked at Emily as though she had three heads when Emily told her what they wanted. But selling paintings was Katie's job that night, and there was a commission involved as well, so she wasn't going to work too hard to talk Emily and the Walking Brain from blowing their money on it if that's what they really wanted to do.

The girls had to wait until the end of the night to pick up the painting, which, by then, was safely wrapped for transit and tucked carefully under Naomi's arm for the cab ride to her mom's. It wasn't long before they were tucked back in Naomi's old room, having managed to avoid chatting with Gina and Kieran who were engrossed in their umpteenth viewing of Monty Python's Holy Grail, cackling away happily as the young lovers quickly snuck past them up the stairs.

They took turns in the loo, preparing themselves for bed. Naomi went first while Emily dug through her bag for a sleep shirt, the night being a cool one. She'd no doubt end up losing it before long, but for now it would give her some protection from the chilly air. When her turn in the bathroom came she took care of the necessary ablutions and tip-toed her way back down the hall to Naomi's room. She was delighted to see that Naomi had unwrapped the picture and leaned it up against the lamp on the bedside table. From the look on Naomi's face as she gazed at the small frame it was obvious that her thoughts had drifted once again to that night. There had been a lot of nights and a lot of touching since, and they had certainly become better at pleasuring each other. But there was something special, something irreplaceable about that first night. Just thinking about it made Emily want to be closer to her love, so she moved into the room and slid onto the bed. She wrapped herself around her girlfriend and planted a firm kiss on her temple.

"I love you, Naoms."

"I love you, too, Ems. So much."

Naomi inhaled, as though to say something more, but hesitated. Emily wondered, just briefly, if there was a "but" coming, and her heart skipped a beat at the thought.

"What is it?"

Naomi took another breath, and then shifted in Emily's arms, ducking her head to catch her lover's eyes.

"I still can't believe that night happened. It was so unreal. So… I can't even… I just…"

Naomi stopped babbling then, shaking her head at her loss for words, and visibly pulled herself together to convey the depth of what she was trying to say.

"I just… I want you to know, Ems, I wouldn't trade it for anything. I wouldn't trade any of it. Not one single thing or one single day. It all brought us here. And being here, being with you is… well, it's everything to me."

Upon hearing those words Emily's eyes closed. She savoured the feeling for a heart-beat or two and then leaned in to kiss Naomi, her arms pulling them as close together as possible. Her heart swelled with joy, and with the overwhelming import of the moment. It had been hard getting here. It was still hard. But they were together, really together, and Naomi wasn't fighting it any more.

They didn't have sex that night. Instead, they held each other, and they talked, and they just let the peacefulness and comfort settle within them. It was intimate, profoundly so; perhaps more so than the touches and kisses and cries that normally marked their bedtime hours. It was a little slice of heaven just for them.

Eventually they succumbed to sleep with limbs entwined, Emily's face tucked under Naomi's chin, the tiny painting watching over them both. Naomi's dreams that night were filled with all things Emily, fond memories and reflections tumbling through her mind as she muttered sweet endearments between soft snores, and pulled the redhead more tightly in her arms. And Emily's dreams were filled with all the fine things that the days and weeks and years to come would bring.

Life wasn't perfect for the girls, not then, not yet. But it was awfully fucking close.

.

.

**.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.**

**So, the time shifting has begun, with a little bit of the "then" part of Now and Then. I hope you liked it and that it was not too confusing. Let me know either way! The button is just down there… Pretty please :)  
**


	5. Chapter 5: The First Step is the Hardest

**It is amazing to me to see the steady trickle of views and follows and favourites coming in for this story. Each one means a lot. Thanks to all of you who have shown an interest, with special thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review or PM to share your thoughts.**

**I still don't own it though. **

**Chapter 5 ****–**** The First Step is the Hardest**

…_**Now**_

The day carries on as crap as it started, with Naomi's hang-over making it almost impossible to concentrate. That is a bad thing, as she has three clients with court documents that absolutely have to be filed today. So, she puts her head down, drinks endless cups of coffee, and swears freely and frequently under her breath. Sam brings her ice water, as an alternative to yet more coffee, and around noon drops a couple more pills in her boss' hand in the hope that they might help stave off the headache that Naomi so clearly has.

Finally, the bloody awful day is almost done; the court briefs are filed and served, the clients brought up to date, the senior partners informed, and the hands of the clock tick ever so slowly towards the magic hour of 5 o'clock. Naomi considered leaving before then, but in this bastion of billable hours even that time will be considered "early," and will be noted.

Naomi is just filling in the last entries for her time sheet for the day when she hears voices on the other side of her closed office door. One is Sam, she knows. And an unrestrained cackle makes clear to her that the other is Cook.

Her first thought is, "What the fuck?", because she is pretty sure that she and Cook did not have plans for the night when the left him on her sofa that morning. Her second thought is, "Fucking hell", because she really doesn't have it in her to go out with anyone tonight, let alone Cook. She needs food, and a bath and sleep, and possibly all three at once. Her next thought is, "He's fucking checking up on me", and she feels the mix of frustration and warmth she always feels when he does something like this, something that shows without words that he cares, which is lovely, really, but also that he is worried about her and thinks she needs looking after, which, well, isn't.

Naomi can hear soft laughter slipping past the door. Sam is chuckling at something Cook has said. Sam has met Cook before on occasion, including over drinks with Naomi one Friday night. They have actually managed to develop a fairly comfortable relationship based on Cooks' never-ending attempts to hit Sam with the perfect pick-up line, and Sam's never-ending quest to shut him down as colourfully and humourously as possible. It seems likely that the current exchange is more of the same.

After another muffled round of laughter, the door swings open just enough for Sam to pop her head in, with a soft, "Mr. Cook's here, Naomi. May I let him in?"

Naomi just rolls her eyes at this given that Cook is already half-way through the door before Sam has stopped speaking.

"It's just Cook, Sweetheart, no mister." The assistant squeaks in surprise as Cook cops a feel of her butt on the way by.

"Cook! Stop harassing Sam. How many times do I have to tell you! I'm sorry he's such a prat, Sam."

"No worries, Boss. He's an ass, but..."

"That's "ass man", love, not ass. Get it?" Cook claps his hands together in glee at his own cleverness just as Naomi leans over and cuffs him on the back of the head.

"Good night, Sam. I'm sorry my friend is such a twat."

Cook's mock outraged, "Oi!" is obviously just for show, so Sam just throws him a quick grin before looking back to her boss.

"'Night, Naomi. Feel better."

With that, Sam is gone, and Naomi turns her attention to her old friend who has moved behind her desk to make himself comfortable in her chair. She cocks an eye-brow in her signature way, querying his presence without having to say a word.

"Right then. Fancy a bite? I could murder a pizza," Cook answers the unspoken question.

Naomi is torn, resenting in a small way the fact that he obviously thinks that she needs to be checked up on, but also grateful that he bothered. Pizza and a pint with Cook (and of course, with Cook, there will always be a pint) is a lot more enticing then a night spent alone with her own thoughts in her empty flat.

She collects her bag and coat and moves into the corridor without comment, Cook smiling as he trails behind. After quickly locking the door to her office, she wraps her arms around his and utters an almost silent, "Thank you." Cook looks down at her, and gives her arm a squeeze, choosing not to respond directly to her words.

They wave good-night to Jim at the lobby security desk, and then make their way to their favourite, hole-in-the wall Italian place, and order their usual large pizza, half veggie, half meat lovers (no prizes for guessing who eats which half). They are a few slices into their meal when Cook decides it's time to prod things along a bit.

"So, Blondie, what was last night all about, eh?"

Naomi freezes, her second slice just shy of her mouth. She drops her hands, pizza and all, back down to her plate, working hard to recover her composure. She casts her eyes up, catching Cook's, and wondering just how much damage answering that question will do to him, too.

"Do you ever think about Effy, Cook?"

Cook is obviously surprised by the apparent non-sequitur, shifting back in his seat uncomfortably, as his face falls into the mask he uses to hide his feelings..

"Effy? Yeah. I do. Now and then, like. Why?"

Naomi hesitates, again wondering if sharing this with Cook is a good idea. But he did ask, and he hasn't shut her down. At least not yet.

"I saw her. Yesterday. That's what last night was about"

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

"Well, I'll be fucked. Can't say I expected that."

"Yup. That about sums it up.

It passes across his face in an instant as his masks slips ever so slightly. She would have missed it completely had she not been watching so closely: Pain, grief, loss. Cook loved Effy once, and lost her, first to his best friend, and then completely when he had to go on the run just after the end of College. But, Cook recovers quickly, his mask descending again almost perfectly. No one but Naomi would likely be able to see the cracks.

There is a small pause while they both let the news sink in before Cook breaks the silence.

"So, where did you see her?"

Naomi tells him then, all the details of the night before, omitting only her near panic attack, the embarrassment of that not being something she chooses to share.

Cook seems to sink into himself as he listens, his attention wavering more and more as the story nears its end. He pulls himself together to give a typical Cook response.

"Still mint, is she then?"

Naomi laughs, relieved to know that he has not been too shaken by the news.

"Yes, you wanker, she is. And posh now, too."

"More than you?"

"Fuck off."

"Come on, Blondie, look at you… those shoes probably cost more than my whole wardrobe."

This is an old tease, one that Cook makes at every possible opportunity, and Naomi knows that he is using it to buy a little time, to deflect. She sees no point in making this any harder for him, so she lets it go and plays along.

"Gotta dress the part, you git. And don't call me, Blondie. Fuck, it's been years since I was blonde. Can't you let anything go?"

"Nope. No more than you can."

Now that little dig Naomi doesn't appreciate, especially after she was trying to let Cook off the hook about his own baggage, so she throws him a dirty look and takes a long pull on what's left of her pint.

"So… You gonna call her?"

Naomi can tell from his voice that Cook isn't teasing any more. He is genuinely curious.

"No. I don't know. Maybe. Not yet."

"Very decisive, Blondie."

"Seriously, I am _n__ot_ Blondie any more, Cook. Can you bloody stop? Please?"

"Fuck that. You're Blondie to me, Love. That will never change. And stop trying to change the subject, yeah?" He takes a deep breath and looks Naomi straight in the eye. "I think you should ring her."

Naomi doesn't really know what to make of that. And she still hasn't decided what, if anything, she plans to do with the number Effy programmed into Naomi's mobile.

"Maybe. I'll see."

"Right. Fine. Well, if you're not going to call tonight, how about we call it a night and you can at least trying to get a few hours sleep. You look like shit, babe."

"Gee thanks, Cook. Just what every woman wants to hear. Fucking sweet talker, you are."

Cook gets up to pay the bill, ruffling her hair on the way by to piss her off. He insists that they take turns paying, despite that fact that Naomi far out-earns him. She long ago stopped arguing with him about it. When the cheque is taken care of, Cook walks Naomi home, once again arm in arm, all the way to the door to her flat.

"Thank you. Cook. For everything."

"Any time, Blondie. Anytime at all."

He drops a brief kiss on her cheek, wishes her sweet dreams, and then ambles back down the hallway with his hands in his jacket pockets, and Naomi's eyes on his back. She watches him affectionately until he moves out of sight, skipping the small elevator in favour of the stairs.

"You really are a good guy, aren't you, Cook," she mutters to herself once he's gone. She shakes her head and lets herself into her too big and too quiet flat, hoping against hope that she will be tired enough to ignore the craziness of the last days and find the sleep that Cook has wished for her.

.

**.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.**

.

It is Cook, of course, who finally convinces Naomi to ring Effy. He pesters her daily, by text and mobile, with the occasional in-person surprise attack for variety's sake - daring her, mocking her, taunting her – everything and anything he can think of to get her to make the damn call.

Eventually, in a feeble effort to get him to back off she caves and tells him that Effy is still friends with Katie. She knows that he will put the pieces together that as a result Effy more than likely still sees Emily, or at least hears about her. It's a desperate attempt to get him to leave it alone. But of course it has the opposite effect on Cook. Even though he doesn't say a single word to Naomi about Emily - doesn't even mention her name out loud - now he understands why Naomi's been such a fucking basket case since the night she saw Effy.

It never made sense to him that just seeing Effy would have such a huge effect, sending Naomi into that kind of drunken tailspin. But Emily…. even just the idea of Emily? Well, there's no question that would do it. Tossing that back into Naomi's world would blow apart the careful, delicate walls that she constructed around that part of her life, around that part of her heart. Cook knows how far and how fast she fell apart after the split, and how hard she's struggled to make something of her life since.

And he knows that she is in a spin over it all over again no matter how hard she tries to deny it. It may not be as bad, not nearly, but it's definitely not good. He's seen her like this before from time to time, when something gets past the barriers she threw up. And he really wants to never see her like this again. He's no genius, but it seems to him that Effy might just be the key to getting that wish. He knows it's a risk, getting Effy involved. Seeing Effy is what started this new spiral after all. But she's a link to the beginning of it all. And maybe going back is the only way for Naomi to go forward, even after all this time. He's not good with this shit so he could be all fucking wrong. Still, he's got to do something. And right now, Effy's all he's got. So, he keeps poking at Naomi until she promises to call Effy just to get him to shut the fuck up about it.

Which is why she is now sitting curled up on her sofa in the dark with her mobile clutched in her hand, just staring at it. She has dialed the number more times than she can count, hitting end instead of send each time. She doesn't know how to do this. She doesn't know what to say.

After her aborted attempts at a phone call she decides a text might be better. Something quick, and light, and not at all relating to how her heart is tearing itself apart all over again. No, not about that.

She writes and rewrites a dozen different versions before finally settling on:

_ . Hey Ef. It__'__s me. Drinks? I__'__m free Thursday night, if you are._

She hits send before she stops herself, and then waits, heart pounding, knuckles white, for the soft buzz announcing a reply. It doesn't come right away, and she curses herself for being so naïve, for mistaking Effy's standard, insincere words of invitation for something more, for something real. She stands quickly, moving towards the kitchen and the bottle of alcoholic relief she will find there when her phone skitters across the table where it lays.

She stares at it from where she stands, as if that might reveal to her its contents.

Finally, she moves back to the sofa, perching herself on the edge as she reaches for the phone. It's a text from Effy. Of course it is. Effy would be polite enough to respond no matter how uncomfortable it might have made her.

_ . Thurs works 4 me. There__'__s a decent pub not far frm where we bumped into each other __–__ Cassidy__'__s. 8ish? I__'__ll get the 1__st__ round in._

Oh. That sounds… almost eager, coming from Effy. Not just polite, but… keen. Naomi feels her spirits rise, just a bit, at the sight of it, and reads the few short words over and over before replying.

_ . Sounds good. See u there._

Her faces relaxes into a small, but genuine smile as she sits, still holding the phone. It's something to look forward to, she thinks. It's been a while since she had that. They can just talk about each other and current events and such. She can do this. She can.

As Thursday approaches, Naomi wavers between dread and excitement. Even Sam notices, and comments on her boss' mood swings, cautiously of course, treading lightly on the subject. Naomi tries to laugh it off, blaming an upcoming appeal hearing for her nerves. But it's not that. Not at all. She almost wishes that she'd rescheduled the fucking counseling session just so she could have talked this through with someone. But she hadn't, so… here she is.

It's strange, really. They aren't doing anything special, just grabbing a drink together at a local pub. And yet for Naomi, there is nothing ordinary about it. It feels as though she is playing with fire, and she worries that there is a very good chance that she will get burned. More specifically, she absolutely dreads the possibility that her old baggage will come up, that Effy will want to talk about Emily and how everything went so wrong. The curiosity would be natural, Naomi knows, but she is hoping nonetheless that Effy will keep to her inscrutable ways and choose to let that particular sleeping dog lie. It's not like Effy doesn't know it's a sore subject, but for the old Effy, the Effy Naomi remembers from college, that would be precisely the reason to bring it up. So, Naomi can only hope that this new, grown-up Effy will show a little more restraint.

Despite her anxiety about what they will talk about, Naomi finds that she is looking forward to the evening. She always liked Effy, in a strange way. There was always something about her that drew Naomi in, even when they were both basically just messed up kids. Effy is bright and insightful and, from the stories Katie used to tell in the post-college years, wickedly funny as well. So, the idea of spending some time with her again (as long as they stay away from the minefield of their respective pasts) is actually quite enticing.

And so it is that Naomi finds herself at Cassidy's Thursday night, right on time, dressed in the 7th outfit she tried on, and bouncing from a kind of excitement to a low-grade fear and back. She squints into the darkened room until she spots Effy at a corner table waving at her. She has just enough time to wonder at the marvel of Effy not only being on time, but being _early_ before she finds herself bound up in a hug. She doesn't remember Effy ever being a hugger before, but if truth be told, Naomi kind of likes it. It has been a while since anyone other than Cook and Gina hugged her, and her mood picks up even before Effy's arms loosen their grip.

"I'm glad you came. I wasn't sure you would."

Leave it to Effy to dive right in with talking about the elephant in the room. No beating around the bush for her.

"I almost didn't. But then… well, Cook would never have let me live it down, so…"

Once again, there is no element of unease in Effy's reaction to Cook's name. She has clearly made peace with that part of her past, and Naomi is glad for it. It will make this much easier if she does not have to pussy-foot around mentioning the one real friend she still has.

They order drinks, a Cosmo for Effy and a Jack and Coke for Naomi, as well as a couple of appetizers, and they talk, about their jobs (Effy is a property manager responsible for several large downtown office towers), their degrees, their respective arsehole bosses, and of course, the weather. When they have exhausted all the obvious, non-contentious subjects, Effy gently takes a plunge, while hoping that she is not pushing Naomi too far, too fast.

"So, Katie says Hi."

Naomi doesn't know how to react to that. The sudden spectre of Katie Fucking Fitch looming over the table (metaphorically speaking) is overwhelming. The last time Naomi saw Katie was the night it all came crashing down, when Emily walked away for good. Naomi can't think about Katie without finding herself right back in that awful moment. She manages to gasp out a stifled, "Oh?" as her grip tightens on the tabletop until her knuckles turn white.

Effy notices, of course, but decides to carry on anyway. It's not out of spite or insensitivity. Not at all. She's thought a lot about this, and about how she can rebuild her friendship with Naomi, and she knows that it just can't happen unless they deal with the fact that Katie, and by extension Emily, are in her life. They don't have to dwell on it. But they do have to at least acknowledge it.

"Yeah. She was surprised to hear that I had run into you. But she told me to say Hi, so… Hi."

The tension at the table has gone through the roof, but Effy knows that she needs to follow through. She doesn't want Naomi to learn about it later, and be upset that she was kept in the dark.

"Naomi, you should know that Katie and I live together. In Highgate."

"Wait. What? You… you _live_ together? Like, _live_ together live together?"

Effy can't stop herself from laughing at the unvarnished shock of Naomi's expression and the clear implication of her question.

"We're not fucking, if that's what you mean, Naomi. Though not for lack of trying on my part, I must admit." Effy's grin at this turn of the discussion goes from ear to ear.

"She's fit as fuck, our Katie. But not quite adventurous enough for that, I'm afraid. We're _friends_, Nai, and we share a terrace flat. Have done for a few years now."

The blood slowly comes back to Naomi's face as she registers her old friend's words.

"Oh. Right. Well, that makes sense."

Naomi remembers how Katie looked after Effy those years ago, and she can understand why they would have stayed close afterwards. It is still hard for her to imagine them sharing a flat together, however grown up Katie may be now, but whatever. If it works, that's lovely.

It is at that point in Naomi's train of thought that it hits her. Her anxiety had abated a bit during her frantic imaginings of a "Keffy" coupling, but now… Jesus, if Effy lives with Katie, actually fucking lives with her and sees her everyday, then there is no doubt _at all_ that Effy knows a lot more about Emily than even Naomi's worst fears had allowed. It's not just a possibility, it's a reality, a fucking _certainty_. Emily could be at their flat right then, for all Naomi knows. Unease flashes across her eyes as she looks up to Effy.

Effy takes pity on her, and instead of answering the unasked (unaskable?) question, she changes the subject. She moves on to regale Naomi with stories of Panda, who is pregnant and even flightier than before, and of JJ who is now happily married to Lara, and who is now a successful economist. They continue that way, Naomi grateful for the reprieve, exchanging small talk until the third round of drinks are gone, and the appetizers eaten, and it's suddenly time to go. Effy asks if they can see each other again, and Naomi, after a moment's thought (and despite her trepidation at being even this much closer to Emily) says yes.

She is almost as surprised as Effy to hear the word come out of her mouth. But it has been nice, this evening, this chance to catch up. It feels as though they might be able to be friends despite everything. And Naomi can't make herself just turn that away. So, she says yes.

Over the next weeks, they follow up with coffee dates, and lunches and late night dessert runs. It turns into a weekly event, more or less, their hangouts. It is always just the two of them. And they don't talk about Emily. Ever. That is the unwritten, unbreakable rule.

On this particular Friday night, Naomi drags Effy to a dingy repertory house playing a 1970's era "classic" French film noire as penance for Effy having stood her up earlier in the week to deal with an unexpected plumbing emergency at one of the buildings she manages. Effy spends the whole movie deliberately misinterpreting the dialogue in the most obscene ways that she can think of, ranging from having the cold, calculating detective murmur sexual entreaties to the burly uniform cop, to some particularly questionable suggestions between an aged spinster and the paper boy. The inevitable result, of course, is that the two of them giggle so much that they are unceremoniously asked (to use that term loosely) to leave before the last reel even starts.

As it is still relatively early , they decide to head back to "their" coffee shop, the one they went to the first night they met over the cab. They are talking about nothing in particular, as usual, just sipping their teas as they (mostly Naomi) winge and moan about the latest political clusterfuck and idiotic social policy. It is a good night, light, easy and fun. They are so relaxed that it is easy to forget the fact that nothing about this is really easy at all. As a result, there is no warning at all before it happens.

Effy points upward, bringing Naomi's attention to the music flowing through the shop - a new song with an original and inspired hook, sung by an amazingly talented singer who, despite all odds and the prevalence of pre-packaged, overly produced and auto-tuned hacks on the radio, is currently getting some well deserved air time and recognition. Effy is so drawn into the music, that she doesn't really think about what she says before she speaks.

"The first time I heard that one sing was on Emily's show. She saw her play a small Chelsea nightclub one night and went mad for her. Was playing her record on air the very next night."

Naomi freezes at the name, eyes instantly going wide and wild.

"… What?"

"Of fuck, Naomi. I'm sorry. I…"

"… on air... she has... her show?"

Effy isn't quite sure whether to answer the question or not, given how frozen Naomi looks, and how dazed. She can't believe she fucked up like this. But Emily is so much a part of the rest of her life, and the atmosphere with Naomi tonight had been so laid back that she lost track and forgot who she was talking to. But however unintentionally it happened, and however stupid it was, the door is open now, and so she presses on.

"Emily has a show, Naomi. On the radio. She does the late night slot on ZONE FM. I would have thought… Haven't you heard the ads?"

"No… I… I don't listen to... She's… fuck… she's _here_? In London?"

Effy's superficial calm is made all the more apparent in contrast to Naomi's accelerating unravelling.

"I thought… when I never saw her… I just… I thought she'd gone home. To Bristol."

Effy gives Naomi a moment to work through the mess of feelings this topic has raised, before she answers.

"She was in Bristol. For a couple of weeks. After that she was in Ireland for a while. She came back about a year ago, when the Zone gig came open."

"…Ireland?"

Naomi can barely stutter out the one word question, as she tries valiantly to carry on this conversation as though it is not shattering her to pieces.

"Yeah. She got an offer for a radio job there, not long after… Well. She got a job there, and she took it. I can't tell you how many times I had to hold Katie back from going over there and physically dragging her home, kicking and screaming if necessary. Katie screaming, that is, not Emily."

Her attempt to defuse the situation through humour falls flat, and Effy's concerned expression is lost on Naomi, as Naomi is lost in her own whirling thoughts.

"Ireland. She went to Ireland. She left the fucking _country_ to get away from me? Jesus, Effy. How could… Jesus. All I wanted was to get her _back_ and she went all the way to fucking _Ireland _to get away from me?"

Effy's reaches out to Naomi, trying to calm her with a soothing touch.

"Naomi, no. No! She did go to Ireland, yes. She got a job offer, a good one, and she took it. That's all. I don't think you should assume that there's more to it than that."

"Right. Okay. Fine. Look, I'm sorry. I… I have to go. I just… I have to go."

Without another word Naomi grabs her coat and purse and runs out of the shop, as she loses the battle and hot tears begin to stream down her face.

Effy stands, as if to give chase, before realizing the futility of trying to talk to Naomi right then. She never meant to bring Emily up this way. She had hoped that Naomi would eventually ask, but this was not what she had planned at all. Her heart breaks for her old friend, but she knows that there is nothing she can do to make it better tonight.

She slowly picks up her jacket and clutch, a softly muttered, "Fuck," the only obvious sign of her distress. "Katie's going to bloody kill me."

.

**.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.**

.

Naomi walks blindly, without direction, just needing to move, to get away. She's not sure whether her tears are from anger or hurt or shock. They flow freely down her face, mingling with the raindrops that have started to fall, the skies echoing her unsettled state.

She should be angry, shouldn't she? She was the one who got left behind. She was the one who didn't get a choice. She should be fucking angry. She should hate Emily for leaving her like that. So why the fuck can't she? Why is she caught up instead feeling a strange pride in the damn woman? Why is her own hurt tempered with a kind of strange… happiness that Emily finally made it? That she was able to make at least one dream come true.

She stumbles her way home as her thoughts careen back and forth. She wishes for the thousandth time that she understood what went wrong. They had so much. They were Naomi and Emily. They could have had it all. They _should_ have had it all. They should have had forever. Instead, one day anything was possible and the next day everything was gone.

She finds herself standing in her living room, staring at her I-pod dock, the remote clutched tightly in her right hand. It's well past 2 a.m. and all she can think about is the fact that Emily could be doing her show right now. All she has to do is turn the I-pod on and tune it to the right frequency. That's all she has to do to hear her, to hear that voice again.

She stands and she stares, torn, for what seems like hours, her heart and mind going back and forth, undecided. Finally, she chooses. Not tonight.

She carefully, deliberately puts down the remote on the coffee table. Then she slowly straightens up and brushes away one last tear before she moves away to her room to collapse, still dressed and even more exhausted, into bed. No, definitely not tonight.

.

**.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.**

.

**Oh man. I can****'****t seem to get off the angst train, can I. But on the up-side, we****'****re one step closer right? I mean, they are in the same city, so****…**** anything could happen. Theoretically, at least. :)**

**Sorry to any Keffy shippers. If you've read BP or PTS you know I ship them too, but I want to focus on their friendship this time.**

**Review button is below. Drop a line if you have a moment, and let me know what you think. **


	6. Chapter 6: The High Cost of Lost Dreams

**A/N: I do love the idea of Emily on the radio…**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Still. Sigh.**

**Chapter 6 – The High Cost of Lost Dreams**

…_**Then**_

Naomi was walking through the University along Houghton Street with friends after her study group when she saw it. At first it was just a jumble of colours captured out of the corner of her eye. But when she looked closer, she realized that there was an image of a microphone and she could make out the word "radio" in stylized font among the text. That peaked her interest. She and Emily had been talking about Emily's interest in media generally, and in radio production in particular, just a few weeks earlier after listening to an especially good BBC radio documentary. The conversation hadn't really gone anywhere, as neither one of them had any idea what to do to try to get into that trade, so nothing came of it.

Naomi told her mates that she'd catch up with them, and walked over to the poster to get a better look. What she saw had her scrambling to tear the flyer off the wall. It was for an internship with local radio station. A _paid_ internship. It was with a pop and rock station instead of something more talk and discussion oriented, which, really, fucking hell, but _still_. From the little information on the flyer it appeared that the focus would behind the scenes technical stuff which was exactly what Emily was interested in. It was a great opportunity for her to maybe break into the industry. She had to tell Emily.

Naomi ditched her friends via text, letting them know something had come up and she wouldn't be able to meet them for coffee after all, and then headed on home as fast as her feet would carry her. When she finally arrived at the little house, she was a mess - sweaty, and with her hair mussed from her exertions - but she didn't care. She was too excited to care about crap like that when she had the chance to make Emily happy.

She burst through the front door calling her lover's name as she entered. At her shout, Emily popped her head around the corner from the kitchen where she'd been putting together a box lunch for her evening shift at the hotel.

"Jesus, Naoms, where's the fire?"

Naomi just rushed towards Emily waving the poster towards her. "You have to read this!"

Emily cocked an eye at her oddly behaving girlfriend and carefully took the sheet of paper from her hand. She paused as she read it, looking up from under her fringe at the animated blonde beside her.

"What's this, then?"

"It's for a job, Ems. An internship. In radio. And it's paid. You _have_ to apply, Em. It could be perfect!"

Emily looked back at the page, her brow furrowed, then shook her head.

"It's a nice idea, hun. But it won't work really, will it? I mean, there's no way it could pay enough to keep us going, could it?"

"I don't know, Ems, not for sure. But I think you should go for it and find out. What would be the harm in applying? If the pay's shite, well then, we can think twice, but if we can manage and you can get this chance… Jesus, Emily, you _have _to apply!"

"But…"

"No buts, Ems. I mean, it's your turn, isn't it? So, what the fuck… If I have to get a part-time job to help cover some of the bills, so be it. I will. For this I absolutely fucking will."

Naomi waited then, her gaze locked on Emily who was still visibly struggling with the idea.

"Do you mean it?"

"I really fucking do, yeah."

"But what if I don't like it, or I get canned – assuming I get it in the first place. Like, jobs don't grow on trees, Naoms. And if I quit, the hotel and the others, they aren't very likely to have me back, are they?"

"We'll figure it out if it gets to that. But it won't. You'll love it, Ems, I know you will. And it could turn into something special for you, a real career. I mean, fucking hell, with a voice like yours you should be _on_ the radio, let alone working behind the scenes. Just think, Ems. You could finally do something you actually like. No more clearing slops for shitty pay."

There was silence again as Emily considered all that had been said, her eyes locked on the poster in her hands. Finally, unable to contain her enthusiasm for the idea, the mere possibility that it held, Emily whispered, "I'll do it. I'll apply," before she stepped into her lover's arms to give her a fierce Fitch hug.

"Thank you. Thank you for this, Naoms. No matter what happens. Thank you."

Emily loved that Naomi had thought of her, and that she was trying to put Emily first this time. For a long time it had been Emily taking care of Naomi, and if Emily was honest, it felt really good to have the tables turned for just a little while.

The girls dove right into putting together Emily's application. There was a little creative writing involved, as they stretched her schooling and work experience to suggest that she would be the perfect intern. As Naomi put it, they just needed the application to get Emily in the door for an interview. Because once they met Emily in person, no sane person would ever turn her away.

By the time the day was done, Emily had her heart well and truly set on the possibility of this new adventure. She was on tenterhooks as the days passed, each one seeming longer than the last with the waiting. Every time her mobile rang, Emily would jump, her heart pounding until she found out who was calling. She even carried the mobile in her pocket during work, which wasn't allowed. She couldn't bear to think that she might miss the call. Day after day, there was nothing, until only a fragment of her original hope remained.

She was just coming in from checking the post one Thursday morning when the call finally came. She'd done it. They wanted her to come in for an interview.

Emily was pretty sure that the squeal she let out when the call was over could have been heard several doors down, but she didn't care. Naomi, on the hand, came tearing out of the bathroom, still dripping water from her bath, a shampoo bottle clutched in one hand – a misguided choice of weapon to use against the intruder she was sure was threatening her lover – while the other held a towel loosely around her torso.

Emily couldn't help but fall into gales of laughter at the sight, which did not help Naomi come to terms with the fact that she had just been scared witless for no reason.

"For fuck's sake, Ems, what the fuck?"

"I'm sorry, Nai," squeaked Emily between snorts and giggles. "Really, I am. But bloody hell that was hilarious!"

Naomi stared at the redhead, the steam almost visible coming out of her ears, before she turned on her heel and headed back to the loo to finish her bath.

"Naomi, wait! Really, I have news."

"What? What could possibly explain that fucking little display, Emily? Really. What?"

Emily ignored the bite in Naomi's tone. It was only to be expected in the circumstances. And she knew the tone would change completely once she told her the news.

"I got an interview."

It took Naomi a moment to make sense of that, the application having been submitted so long before that it was no longer high on her mental radar. But when the penny dropped, she whooped like a maniac, dove forward to capture Emily in her arms, and twirled her around the living room screaming "You got it, you got it, you got it!"

Finally Emily managed to find her feet again, and tried to bring a little perspective back into the fray. "I haven't got it yet, Naomi. It's just an interview."

But Naomi was having none of that. "You'll get it. After talking to you for a minute they'll be _begging_ you to take it. Now," she said with a wicked gleam, "We have to celebrate."

She grabbed Emily again, and carried her giggling and squirming into the bed room before tossing her onto the bed. Emily leaned up on her forearms, watching Naomi approach. The sight of the blonde, still wet from the shower, and covered only in a small towel was certainly enticing all on its own. But the wicked look on Naomi's face is what started the heat between Emily's legs. As Naomi stalked towards her, Emily's thoughts got stuck on, "Oh my god." That situation was not helped when Naomi leaned over to drop the shampoo bottle onto the bedside table before reaching into the drawer to retrieve the leather cuffs they kept there and then dropping her towel. The blonde painted Emily with a predatory gaze while stating firmly, and with no room for contradiction, "Now I'm going to make you _really_ scream."

It was a promise that she kept, more than once, over the next few hours, the two of them getting so lost in each other's touches, sounds and tastes that Emily was almost late for her shift that night. As it was, Emily had to wear wide, silver bracelets on both wrists to hide the marks caused when she pulled desperately against the cuffs, something that was definitely _not_ within the hotel dress-code. It was worth it though. Absolutely, positively worth it, she thought with a sly little Emily Fitch grin. God, if only the hotel punters knew.

The few days before the interview went quickly. Before they knew it, Naomi was helping to pick an interview outfit for the nervous applicant. Emily almost broke into tears when Naomi said that she would skip class to walk her to the radio station, so touched was she at the blonde's consideration. Emily was nervous. Really nervous. And knowing that Naomi was there to support her helped a lot.

While Emily went inside the blocky grey building, heading up to the fourth floor per her instructions, Naomi stayed outside, pacing anxiously and smoking fag after fag, first convincing herself that of course Emily would get the job, and then that the fucking wankers probably didn't know their arse from their right hip and they'd be too stupid to grab Emily up when they had the chance. She paced endlessly, trying to dispel her nervous energy, wanting this so badly for Emily, wanting this chance for Emily finally to chase her own dream instead of just helping Naomi chase hers.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Naomi spotted Emily coming out of the building. Her head down, Emily walked passed Naomi, tossing a curt, "Come along then, yeah," as she went.

"Em…?"

"Come on."

"Em, how'd it go?"

"Alright."

Naomi's anxiety was blooming with every step they took, as Emily's tense posture and refusal to respond began to paint a devastating picture. Finally, unable to take it for another moment, Naomi reached out to grab Emily gently, but firmly, by the arm, stopping her forward progress.

"Alright?"

Emily took a deep breath, finally deigning to meet Naomi's eyes as she gleefully answered, "Well, yeah. If you think me getting offered the job is alright!"

Naomi couldn't even be mad at the deception. As soon as the words hit her ears she started jumping up and down and screaming in street. It didn't take long for Emily to join her, her own joy bursting free with wild abandon. They looked like lunatics, they did. Utter fucking lunatics. But they didn't care. Emily had the job. That was worth a little craziness, even smack dab in the middle of a London walkway.

"This calls for another celebration," Naomi finally stated when they had calmed down enough to start heading home. They grabbed a bottle of cheap champagne and their favourite Chinese takeaway en route, and dove into it on the couch while Emily regaled Naomi with everything she could remember about the new job. The pay was decent. Not quite as much as she had been clearing from her three part-time jobs, but almost, and more than enough given that it meant she didn't have to work three jobs any more or evenings or weekends. It was essentially a 9-5er, with the possibility of some extra hours, but nothing too much. She would be doing, and learning, everything from audio editing, to how to assembly promo pieces, to how to conduct show research and assist the producers. She might even get to help with some basic sound engineering. It was going to be incredible, and Emily couldn't wait. She even liked the producer who was going to be supervising the internship, a 40ish year-old woman named Lucy with funky pink glasses and a baby blue faux-hawk.

Eventually, Emily ran out of things to share about the interview, and the two just sat quietly together on the sofa, enjoying the slight buzz from the champagne.

"Thank you, Naoms. I can't even… This wouldn't be happening without you. And I just… I… Thank you."

"No need, baby. No need at all. I couldn't be happier for you."

Emily could tell that the words were genuine. She leaned towards Naomi, sweeping her lips softly across the blonde's.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

It wasn't more words that Emily needed then. Not at all. She wanted – no needed - to convey all that she was feeling for Naomi, but words would not be enough. So, she reached forward, the fingers of her right hand brushing through Naomi's hair to curl against the nape of her neck, and drew Naomi forward into another kiss. As the kiss deepened, Emily slid around to perch across Naomi's lap, a knee on either side of Naomi's hips, and wrapped her other hand around her lover's shoulders to pull her ever closer. Naomi groaned at the increased contact and deepened the kiss, savouring and tasting every inch of her lover's mouth.

The kiss was slow, though heated. It was a thank you and a celebration and a promise all rolled into one, and they were happily, beautifully lost in it. Finally, desperate for air, they pulled apart, only to rest their foreheads together as they tried to regain some sense of equilibrium.

After a moment, Emily raised her head and climbed off Naomi's lap, keeping hold of one hand in her own to tug Naomi onto her feet.

"Bed. Now."

Naomi was not likely to argue against such a command, or the woman who gave it. Not when Emily had climbed off her lap with such clear purpose, and not when the words were spoken a full half octave lower than was usual for Emily. It was all Naomi could do not to moan when she saw the almost feral look in Emily's eyes. Dominating Emily was a sight to see, and Naomi felt an instant wetness surge between her legs. This was going to be good. Really fucking good.

Naomi had not quite crossed the threshold to the bedroom and Emily was already grasping at her shirt, standing on tip toe to try to pull the damned thing clear of Naomi's up-raised arms.

"Off. Get it all off."

At that, Naomi did moan, the want in Emily's voice tearing right through her. She peeled off the rest of her clothes as fast as she could, almost tripping over the pants at her ankles in her haste to get to the bed.

"Lie down."

Naomi did exactly as directed, scooting upward until she was in the middle of the bed, her gaze focused intently on Emily who was standing a short distance away at the foot of the bed, taking in the beauty of the naked blonde laid out before her. Without saying another word, but whith her eyes locked on her lover, Emily began removing her own clothes, in a slow, calculated tease, flicking one item purposefully to the ground at a time. It was quite a show, and Naomi was drinking in every moment of it. When Emily was down to just her pink bra and black lace pants, she stopped, making sure that she held Naomi's absolute attention before slipping first the right strap, and then the left, just off her shoulders. The result revealed just a tiny peak at the top of her breasts, over which she ran her hands in a deliberate attempt to drive Naomi wild. The gasping pants that came from the bed made clear that Emily's efforts were working just fine. Slowly, ever so slowly, she unclasped the silky bra with one hand, while still holding it close to her chest with the other, before swiping her tongue across her swollen lips.

"Oh. My. God."

Emily just smiled at her lover's reaction, before letting the bra edge lower and lower before finally, fucking _finally_, letting it drop to the hardwood floor. She stood there then, naked but for her panties, confident in knowing exactly how much Naomi loved her body. Then, when Naomi was almost vibrating with need, Emily slid her thumbs unhurriedly under the waistband of her knickers and gracefully lowered them bit by tiny bit to the floor, posing there, bent forward at the waist with her perfect ass in the air, hands almost touching her toes to allow Naomi to enjoy the exceptional view.

"Fucking. Hell."

Naomi knew better than to ask Emily to hurry, or to get into bed, or anything else. When Emily was in this kind of mood, she called all the shots. And although Naomi never would have believed it, she loved it when Emily topped her like this. It was fucking sexy and beautiful and… _sexy_. So she just watched, and tried to contain her whimpered cries, and appreciated every tiny movement of that luscious little body.

Emily watched her lover, taking great satisfaction at how hard Naomi was having to work to stay in even the smallest degree of control. Once satisfied that Naomi was about to explode with need, and with the frustration of being able only to watch and not touch or feel, Emily glided slowly up from the foot of the bed, her lips grazing and nipping first at Naomi's feet and shins, then moving every upward to her knees and thighs in a calculated effort to drive the blond crazy. She purposefully lingered on a few hyper-sensitive spots along the way, before veering right past Naomi's hips and dripping centre to focus attention on her belly button. Emily's tongue came out to play then, darting and licking around and in the little nub, as Naomi's hands started clenching and unclenching uncontrollably onto the bed sheets, and her breathing became even more shallow and erratic.

"Mmmm. You like that."

"Fuck, yeah."

Emily began scattered kisses along Naomi's ticklish ribs, while reaching up to touch just at the soft underside of the blonde's beautiful breasts. Naomi shifted, trying to force her them into Emily's hands, needing more than the sweet torture to which she was being subjected.

"Please…"

"Not yet."

"Fuck!"

"That's the plan. Eventually, at least."

Naomi groaned at that, knowing now that this would be a drawn out tease, and that her lover was enjoying each and every tortuous moment of it. The groan just caused Emily to smile all the more widely, and not a little wickedly, as she continued her ministrations. A kiss here, a lick there… Slowly, achingly slowly, she upped the contact – a scratch, then a bite, soothing each bit of pain with a softer touch or a swipe of her tongue or a kiss of her sweet lips. She caressed every inch that she could reach, reveling in the softness and the taste and the smell of her gorgeous lover.

Finally, even Emily couldn't stand it any longer, her own sex dripping with her want as she moved to lie on top of Naomi, letting her full weight settle on her lover, before angling her head to husk softly in her ear.

"I'm going to fuck you now. I'm going to fuck you _hard_ until you beg me to stop."

"Oh, Jesus. Yes, please!"

Emily slid her right hand down her lover's body to dip in between her sodden folds.

"Oh Jesus. You are so wet, Naoms. Fuck, I love it when you get this wet for me."

"Please, Emily…"

Emily could not wait any longer and so she slowly, but firmly slid three fingers deep into her lover's cunt, knowing full well that Naomi was so aroused, so beautifully, achingly, drippingly wet, that three would enter without discomfort and that fewer than that just would not be enough. She held still, for a moment, fully buried as Naomi's hips rose wantonly off the bed at the intrusion.

"Yes…! Fuck, yes!"

Emily starting fucking her then, hard as promised, her fingers driving in and out in a syncopated staccato rhythm that she knew from long practice would bring Naomi right to the edge. But just before the edge arrived, she slowed down, not letting her lover hit her peak, eliciting a strangled cry of abject desperation. As Naomi scrambled to find more friction, more depth, more _anything_, Emily placed her free hand on Naomi's belly, pinning her down as she lowered her head between trembling thighs to lick a long, wide path from where her own fingers lay buried up to her lover's throbbing clit. Naomi spasmed wildly at the new sensation, her arms flailing across the bed and her head jerking hard to the side.

With her tongue driving her lover ever closer, Emily began pulsing her fingers in and out at a relentless pace while sucking and licking the little bud. The combined effect of the two actions had Naomi coming in an instant as she screamed out Emily's name. Before the first orgasm ended, Emily was raising Naomi up again, her fingers and tongue pushing her lover further and further into another soul shattering high. Naomi's screams that time had no words, all rational thought banished by the overwhelming pleasure of her release.

Emily licked her fingers dry as she watched the love of her life try to find her breath again. She could not stop herself from climbing up the bed to pull Naomi close to her chest. This Naomi, the thoroughly sated, just fucked Naomi, had always been one of her favourites. There were no walls, no doubts, when Naomi was like this. And Emily loved it.

"Sweet dreams, Baby," she whispered, dropping a kiss onto Naomi's forehead.

Naomi snuggled closer, wrapping a heavy arm around Emily's waist.

"Mmmm. Luf you."

"I love you, too, Naoms. More than anything."

.

**.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.**

.

The next months were a revelation. Emily loved her job. Just as promised, she was able to do a lot of work with audio editing (under supervision, of course), which was her favourite part, but she even loved the pre-show research she was allowed to do. She learned what all the various pieces of equipment were for, and which mics were best for music, verses those that were best for spoken word. She learned the basics of how to mix, of how the contents of a show were chosen and structured, and how the right piece of background music could help tell the story. It was even better than she had thought it would be and she wanted more.

What free time she had she spent trying to find new music to run by the producers, at least when Naomi studying or in class. Naomi made major relationship points when she picked up an almost new audio mixer and a really good set of headphones for Emily for Christmas. The budding intern spent the whole of Christmas break wandering around the city recording sounds and then mixing them into soundscapes at home.

It was through the Spring, though, that Emily really began to excel at her job. The producers loved her. The on air talent loved her. Everyone loved her. And she loved them. They gave her more and more complex things to do, and she mastered everything they threw at her. By the end of the internship she wanted nothing more than to stay on at the station in a real job. And they would have loved to have her.

They would have loved it, but there were no open positions. Not one. At any level.

Emily got the news on a Friday afternoon at the end of March. Her internship would end the next week, and that would be it. She would have to go. Her friends at the station offered to support her if she applied somewhere else, but no one was hiring. So, when internship ended, Emily had no choice but to leave.

She went from a full-time job that excited and challenged her, a job that she adored, back to the grind of having three dead-end part-time jobs that she hated.

The hotel took her back – it was hard to get good help for banquet work, and Emily was always a good worker so they were glad to have her despite everything. She found another job in the mornings with a dog walking agency, and a third in the afternoons as a shampoo girl at a neighbourhood salon. So, she worked and the bills got paid and the days rolled on one into the other. But it was hard. And it was exhausting. And it was really, _fucking_ disheartening.

In retrospect, it was also very likely the beginning of the end.

.

**.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.**

.

**The high cost of lost dreams - the ones you think you have in your grasp only to see them taken away – has always been a theme that interested me, and is one of two major themes I want to explore in N&T along with how hard it can be when real life doesn't quite live up to the idealized dreams of our youth. Let's face it. Growing up can be a bitch! I hope you enjoy and that I can do them justice.**

**BTW, I forgot to thank MM last chapter for her beta work, and I really should have because the whole Effy-Naomi scene at the end is massively better because of her feedback. She's good. Really, really good :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**I am so happy that this story is getting so positively received. It is a long way from the tone and style of Breaking Points, so I was a little worried about how it would come across. I have been blown away by the very kind comments people have been leaving in reviews and messages, especially about the last chapter. Sincere thanks to each of you who has taken the time to let me know what you think, and what you like (or don't), and to ask questions. It makes this whole process even more enjoyable for me. Cheers!**

**Disclaimer still applies. Duh.**

**Chapter 7 ****–****Take Arms Against a Sea of Troubles**

…_**Now**_

"I fucking _told_ you this was going to happen!"

Katie's anger is incandescent, her skin reddened almost to the point of matching the silk of her sleeveless, A-line dress. The only thing holding her back from losing it completely is the fact that it is Effy at whom she is mad and she fucking _hates_ being mad at Effy.

"I told you and told you and _told_ you that if you kept seeing Campbell this was bound to happen. But no… you knew better. You're Effy. You don't make mistakes. Well you made one this time, Hun. A fucking huge one. She made it crystal bloody clear she doesn't want to see her and then you go ahead and lay out a fucking trail of breadcrumbs right to her work door. Fucking wonderful, that is. Emily's never going to fucking forgive us now. "

Even in her rage, even as she paces and prowls the full expanse of the hardwood in the black and white schemed Chelsea apartment, cursing out her frustration at her best friend's screw up, Katie still can't help aligning herself with Effy. She won't let Effy shoulder Emily's wrath alone. That's just not how Katie and Effy work.

"I know. I'll talk to her."

Effy's attempt to calm the waters falls flat, as Katie spins back towards her on her jet black three inch heels, arm raised and finger pointing, her face etched with determination.

"No, you bloody won't. At least if I tell her there's some chance that she'll get over it. She has to. I'm her bloody twin. But you…"

Katie flings both arms upwards in frustration.

"If you tell her you let Naomi know where she works you'll be back to being that crazy bitch who hit her sister with a rock before you can finish your bloody sentence."

Katie sees Effy's face falter just a bit at the throwback to their uncomfortable past, and it is enough, just enough, to break her out of her rant. She sighs deeply, and deflates before walking over to where Effy is perched on top of the black granite kitchen counter, legging clad shins dangling and feet crossed, hands clutching the edge of the counter top.

"I'm sorry, Effy. You know I don't care about that any more. I just..."

"I know, Katie. It's alright. You're pissed and you're worried, and I get it."

"Okay." Katie leans against the cupboard right next to where Effy sits, and reaches out to give her knee a gentle squeeze.

"You have to fix it, though, Eff. You have to make sure that Naomi stays away."

"I don't know, Katie…"

Katie is moving again at that, circling to stand right in front Effy, pinning her where she sits.

"No way. No, Effy. It's over and it needs to _stay_ over. You have to promise me."

Effy holds the eye contact, trying to convey without words how important this decision is. This could be a turning point, in a good way, for all of them and she knows it. She cannot let it go without at least trying to convince Katie that she's right.

"You didn't see her Katie. Naomi was hurt, yes, and upset, and probably more than a little pissed off that I'd mentioned Emily out of the blue like that. But you don't get that hurt – you don't run away in tears if you don't care anymore. At least Naomi wouldn't. Don't you see, Katie…"

"No! Damn it, Effy…"

Katie breaks away from her friend, crossing the room to start pacing again, her frustration with Effy and concern for Emily taking over once again.

"But Katie…"

"_No_, Effy. No fucking way. You need to leave this alone."

"Katie, if Naomi still cares about her then there's a chance, don't you see?"

"I don't _care_. You cannot fuck with this Effy. This is not the time for your "all seeing, all knowing" hocus pocus shit. Not with this. These are real lives, real _people_. People I happen to care about. Don't you get that? You will _not_ fuck with them. You will not fuck with Emily. She's only just starting to be okay, after years of… Jesus! And you want to bull-doze through it like… fuck, I don't even know what, but it's well stupid and I fucking forbid it."

Katie stops her pacing to step into Effy's space, stopping mere inches from her face.

"Do you hear me, Effy. I _forbid_ it."

Effy, still seated on the counter-top, stares blankly at her friend, trying not to roll her eyes at the notion that anyone could forbid her from doing anything. But this is Katie. And Katie is different. Effy can't just dismiss this as she normally would because it is coming from her best friend, a best friend who has stood by her through thick and thin and who is trying desperately to protect her twin the best way she knows how. Effy sits, her face unreadable as she calculates the options and the odds and the costs. She knows that however much Katie loves her there is only so far she can push where Emily is concerned. Because Emily will always be Katie's first choice no matter how important Effy is. That is just the way it is. And Effy is okay with that. So she resigns herself to letting this battle go. At least for now.

"Fine."

"Fine?"

"Yes, Katie. I said "fine.""

Katie relaxes then, somewhat, taking a step back away from her friend, and nodding her head just once.

"Good. Now fucking sort it, Effy. Make this go away. Please. I need you to do this for me."

"Okay. But I still think this is wrong. I think you're making a big mistake. And it's not you who'll pay the price if you're wrong, is it, Katie? Do me a favour and think about that."

Effy's voice is gentle as she speaks, almost neutral. She does not want to accuse Katie. She just wants to make her think twice about the choice that she is making. Yes, Emily is worried about running into Naomi, and has been since she returned from Ireland. Yes, Katie thinks Emily is not strong enough to face those demons just yet. Yes, the whole thing is messy and fucked up. Effy knows all that. But she also knows that all the hiding and avoiding and pretending will change nothing. And Effy is sure down to her toes that something needs to change. For both their sakes: Emily's and Naomi's. She won't change Katie's mind right then, though. That will take time and more than a single conversation. So, despite her misgivings, despite her feeling that Katie is making a big mistake and dragging her into it, Effy will go along. She has made a promise and so she will keep it. But she isn't happy about it. Not at all.

Effy lowers herself off the ledge and heads to her bedroom without another word or glance or touch. It has been a long time since she and Katie fought like this. And as Katie watches her go, the sense of unease is palpable and profoundly disconcerting.

It is no better the next morning, as Effy slips out the door without sharing her normal morning breakfast tea with Katie. She is tired, not having managed to sleep much the night before. And she is worried. Because Katie wants Effy to steer Naomi away from Emily and Effy doesn't know if she can actually do that. She is sure that she shouldn't, and the tug of war between what she thinks best and what Katie is insisting on is tearing her apart.

This is why it's so much easier not to care, she thinks. If she didn't care about Katie she could just go ahead and sort this out the way she thinks best. But she does care; about Katie and about Emily and about Naomi. She doesn't want to see any of them hurt. But she can't help feeling that keeping Emily and Naomi apart isn't helping anyone, despite Katie's insistence. It's a fuck up and she really doesn't know what to do about it.

Effy is no closer to a solution when she arrives at work, so she is grateful for the distraction that it gives her. Pretty soon she is up to her ears dealing with broken pipes and leaky roofs and a piece of unsanctioned street art that she really wishes she didn't have to have painted over. She is just trying to figure out how to convince the manager of the building's clothing store occupant to let the graffiti stay, and possibly even use it as a marketing feature to give a little street cred to the shop, when her door swings open unexpectedly.

"What the fuck did you do?"

She can't find her words for a moment, so thrown is she by seeing him, hearing him, again.

"Cook?"

It's a good thing that she is already sitting down.

"Yeah, yeah, niceties later. What the _fuck_ did you do to Naomi?"

Effy can't process a response and so she simply watches as Cook stalks further in to her office to lean across the sprawling black desk to where she is sitting. She has not seen him in years, since before Freddie… since the shed. Her eyes rip over him, from head to foot and back again. He looks older, harder in some ways, but he still has the boyish mess of hair and the almost animalistic presence. She notes the start of laugh lines around his eyes, and a new scar across his chin. There's a new tattoo on his left hand, but she can't quite make out the words. She's surprised to see that he's wearing a long sleeve button up shirt and pressed black slacks in the place of the old Cook's ever present three-button tee and khakis. He's changed. But he's still very much Cook.

She struggles to reconcile the fact that he is standing in front of her after all this time. She knew he was around, of course. Naomi had told her so. But still she is unprepared to be face-to-face after so long. There is so much to say. Too much to even start. And so she says nothing. She let's Cook break the silence, which he does in an instant.

"She's a mess Effy, a fucking disaster area. And it's your fault. Fucking hell, you can't dangle Emily in front of her like that, without warning and shit. Fuck's sake. Where's your fucking head?"

Effy finds herself again then, Cook's attack providing just the reset that she needs to push past her shock and respond.

"Yeah, like I bloody planned it that way, Cook. Jesus. Give me a little credit. It wasn't intentional, you jackass. We were just talking and I wasn't thinking..."

"That much is pretty obvious."

"Oh, fuck off. Really, Cook. You push your way in here, unannounced, at my office, my place of fucking _work_, after years with no word from you, after you took off without a backward fucking _glance_, and you have the gall to give me grief over _this_. How about "Hello," asshole. How about "How're you doing?" or "You're looking good, Eff." Fuck. Just back off already."

The sight of Cook struck still as a statue is an odd one. He is usually all movement and action and palpable energy. But Effy's words, and the pain that so blatantly lies behind them, turn him to stone. They stare at each other for a beat, then another, before Cook visibly shrinks, his anger dispersing in an instant, to be replace with a small, sheepish grin.

"Hello, Effy. How're ya doing, Sweetheart? You're looking good, babe."

There is another pause while Effy digests Cook's half-assed attempt at humour, and takes in his uneasy grin.

"You're an idiot."

"I know. And you're as beautiful as ever. Naomi told me you got all posh. But you're still you, underneath that blue power suit, aren't you?"

It's not really a question. It's an observation from a man who has learned to read people, and who really did love her once upon a time.

Effy sighs, sinking back into leather seat of her chair.

"What do you want from me, Cook?"

She is tired, and not at all prepared for the emotional drain that seeing Cook again has caused. She never was able to be indifferent to him. It seems she still isn't. She motions Cook into the visitor's chair in front of her desk, then sits up, leaning onto the desk with her natural grace while he just kind of falls into the seat he's been directed to in his typical Cook fashion.

"Naomi's a mess, Effy. I thought getting her to connect with you would help her. But you've managed to make it worse."

His tone isn't accusing now, really, it's more resigned. He doesn't know what to do to help Naomi, so he decided to face down Effy to try to convince her do something to make it better. He has no idea beyond that of what he really wants to happen. He just wants Naomi to be okay.

"I'm sorry about that. I never meant to tell her that way. I never meant to tell her at all unless she asked. It just… slipped out."

"What are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know, Cook. I really don't. Katie wants me to make sure they stay apart, but…"

"Ah, the lovely Katiekins. Still meddling in Emily's affairs, is she?"

"She loves her Cook. And she's the one who had to pick up the pieces, so I think she's earned the right to an opinion, alright?"

"Right. Fine. Whatever. So what's _your_ opinion, then?"

Effy ponders that question. She knows the answer, of course, but to tell Cook would in some way be to betray Katie. Or at least, that is how it feels.

"I don't know, Cook. I haven't decided yet."

"Huh. So, Emily not doing well either, then?"

Effy looks at Cook, this man she used to care for, a man she fucked and fucked around, who then broke her heart when he disappeared just when she needed him most. She doesn't trust him. At least not with herself. But maybe, just maybe, she can trust him with Naomi, and even Emily. He always adored them both, although he didn't always show it.

"Not really, no."

"She's not over it either, is she?"

Effy doesn't answer. There is nothing that she can say that won't violate Emily's confidence more than she can justify. Cook understands without words, though. After all, it is Emily they are speaking of, and Naomi has always been Emily's Achilles heel.

"They'll not get past this unless they meet it head on, Eff. It's been three fucking years, yeah? If ignoring the whole fucking thing was going to work it've done so by now, right? This thing Naomi's doing of trying to pretend it's not happening when she spends every moment waiting for it to blow up in her face, it has to fucking stop. It's, like, killing her. I think we need to get them together. You know, like in a room or something. Let them fight it out. Or talk. Or fuck. Or _something_."

"I don't necessarily disagree, Cook. But Katie does. And neither Naomi nor Emily seems willing to try to fix things, so…"

"Yeah. But that's just 'cause they don't know better, innit."

"And you think you do?" The sarcasm is obvious in Effy's question.

"Yeah. I do. And you think so, too, Eff. You agree with me. Don't you?"

"…Yes. I do. But I made a promise, Cook. I said I would sort it and I will."

"I have no problem with that. Just maybe think about the fact that there might be more than one way to go about sorting it, if you know what I mean."

"No. I'm sorry Cook. I'll talk to Naomi, whenever she gets around to letting me, and I will fix what I messed up, but that's it. I'm not going to meddle more than that when they quite obviously don't want us to. Not to mention Katie will have my balls if I do, with yours thrown in for good luck."

Cook sighs when he hears her words. He's not entirely sure what he was hoping for when he tracked Effy down at her office, but it was for more than this.

"Alright. I'll take that, I guess. I just can't stand seeing her like this, Eff."

"I know. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry."

Cook gets up then, using both hands on the chair arms to lever himself upwards, before leaning across the desk to scribble Naomi's address on a post-it note.

"If she doesn't answer your call, you can find her there."

He knows that despite the renewed friendship Naomi and Effy have shared over the past weeks, Naomi has never invited Effy to her home, choosing instead to keep a boundary around her one safe place. She will be pissed as hell if Effy actually shows up there, but desperate times…

He straightens up and crosses slowly to the door. When he reaches it, he looks back at his old love, a true warmth hitting his eyes for the first time since he walked in.

"Hey, Elizabeth? Looking good, Sweetheart. I'm glad you're okay."

"You too, James. She's very proud of you, you know?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Cook nods at that, his eyes dropping to the floor as he thinks about all that his friendship with Naomi means to him, and how great it feels to know that she is proud of him – proud enough to tell Effy so. He looks back up and into Effy's crystal blue eyes.

"Thanks. Take care of yourself, yeah."

"You, too. Good-bye Cook."

Cook slips out the door, closing it softly behind him and leaving Effy to her whirling thoughts. It was good to see Cook again. Disconcerting, but good. But her feelings about that are something for another time. Right now, she needs to figure out what to do about Naomi. She is even less clear now than she was before Cook barged in. The only thing she knows for sure is that they need to talk. Exactly what she'll say when they speak is something she'll have to figure out later.

Effy grabs her mobile off the desktop and swipes the screen to unlock it. She dials the number she has learned by heart, only to hear it flip straight to voicemail. The same thing happens each time she tries the call again through the course of the day. Naomi is obviously not going to answer the phone for her.

So, Effy tries another approach, and starts sending texts. They start simply and to the point.

- _I__'__m sorry. Can we talk?_

Then,

- _I__'__m worried abt u. Pls let me know ur ok._

The text campaign continues over the next two days with no effect. Katie keeps hounding Effy to sort things out, and is not exactly pacified by hearing that Effy hasn't even managed to make contact yet.

Finally, Effy gets a text response.

– _I need time, Eff. Give me that much._

Effy, of all people, can understand the need to take time to think things through.

_- Ok. But pls ring me when you r ready 2 talk._

Naomi heaves a sigh of relief when she sees Effy's last text. The constant communications had been taking a toll on her. She has spent the past few days trying to work, just as she is now. But she kept getting lost in thoughts about Emily being in London. She wonders how often they almost crossed paths; how many times they would have run into each other if they had turned right instead of left, or walked a little faster, or left home a little sooner, or stayed for one more drink. It is unnerving. She can't help looking for Emily wherever she goes, which is silly as she doesn't even know what Emily looks like these days. It seems unlikely that she still sports that vibrant red hair, although, if anyone can pull off that look at 25, it would be Emily.

It is weird to think of Emily in the present tense, after so long stuck on memories of the past. Naomi finds herself wondering who Emily is now, whether she's happy, whether she's alone. Jesus, the mere thought that she might not be alone, that other hands might have touched her, might _be _touching her chills Naomi to her very bones. She thinks about her own pitiful efforts to move on: bad first dates, and worse one night stands. She tried going out with all shapes and sizes (women only, though, she was done fooling herself about that), different attitudes and occupations, even different political points of view. But, no luck. No one made her feel… well, anything, really. Except lost. And uncomfortable. And _wrong_. And each rendezvous left her feeling lonelier. So, eventually she stopped trying. She buried herself in work and left the chasing of romance to other people. People who weren't broken. People who didn't love Emily Fitch.

Naomi can't imagine seeing her again. What the fuck would she say? How would she act?

It's something she has to consider now. Because she knows where Emily can be found. She could walk right up to the ZONE FM offices and see her. And that means that she has to decide whether or not she wants to, which is a choice that she never thought she'd find herself faced with again.

The whole situation has Naomi holding on by a thread. All the anxiety she was struggling with before has come back en masse, and then some. She can't sleep. She hardly eats. And her work has pretty much gone to shit, too. She has to get off the crazy train.

Each night, she sits in her living room until long past midnight with her IPod in front of her. She's never sure whether she's trying to talk herself into listening or into not listening.

The first night, she falls asleep where she sits, the remote still clutched in her hand, after 4 ½ hours of staring at the device and trying endlessly to make up her fucking mind.

The second night, she doesn't pick up the remote at all, doesn't even sit down in the living room, heading straight to her bed instead in search of the oblivion that sleep would afford. But when she gets there, she sleep eludes her. She lays awake until dawn, salty tears steadily flowing, as she is buffeted by memories of Emily that flash endlessly through her mind like a kaleidoscope.

The third night, she gets deliberately, intentionally, mind-fuckingly wrecked, gulping Jack Daniels straight from the bottle in the kitchen, until she's too bleary eyed to turn on the radio even if she wanted to. She sleeps that night, if you can call being passed out drunk sleeping.

The fourth night, she gives in. At 2:36 a.m., she turns on the radio and tunes it to ZONE FM. Her heart is thumping right through her chest as the frequency grows ever closer. Her hands shake, too, her nerves starting once again to get the best of her.

_ - Do you suffer from the embarrassment of "early delivery" or "unanticipated sexual work stoppage?" Cialis can help…_

She barks out a laugh of surprised relief when she realizes that what she's hearing is a jingle about erectile dysfunction. She hasn't quite wrapped her head around the irony of that when it's over.

And then it's Emily.

_Right then, have I got a treat for you lot now. One of my favourite new bands has just dropped their latest single. The band is HAIM, and I've talked about them before. This single may be their best yet, so listen in. And pay special attention to the bass line, which is just killer, alright? What I wouldn't give to see these ladies live… Can't believe I missed them at Glastonbury, but duty called…_

She is at ease and unhurried in her comments, clearly at home in her job and excited about being able to share this new musical discovery. There is a lightness and a passion to her voice that slices through Naomi like a knife and makes her breath catch in her throat.

The first rush at hearing that voice, that fucking amazing voice for first time in years is overwhelming. Naomi can't even concentrate on the words any more, because the tone, the feel of the voice washing over her ears is all that she can take in. She's just lost in the voice itself.

She stands there, muscles tensed, mouth dry, with every cell fixated on the little box in front of her. It's Emily. Her Emily. Talking as if everything is normal. As if everything is okay. It's fucking Emily, and Naomi cannot begin to deal with it. She thought she could. She thought she was ready. But she was so fucking wrong.

Naomi mutes the sound with a quick jerk of her thumb on the control button. She begins to shake from the effort of staying in control. With a cry that is part grief and part fury she throws remote across room and watches as it shatters into pieces. Then she falls to the ground, curling into herself as her tears begin to fall again.

Every moment of loss and confusion from the past three years comes back to haunt her. Every unanswered question. Every doubt. It's all there again, in an instant. And it leaves her shattered and reeling. Why did she leave? Why wouldn't she talk about it? What the fuck happened to make her shut Naomi out like that?

The questions and the anger keep swirling until exhaustion overcomes her, and she sleeps, right where she is, curled into a ball on the living room floor.

Despite this, and despite how deeply destructive it can – will - be for her, she finds herself back in her living room the very next night, after a workday that was completely lost to her rambling thoughts and doubts and memories, staring at the IPod dock where it sits silently mocking her on the table. And she is there again the next night, and the night after that. She doesn't turn on the radio again, but she cannot tear herself away. The possibility of Emily is too strong for her to ignore.

She keeps vigil.

Finally, bolstered by the better part of a bottle of single malt scotch, the night finally comes when she turns the radio on again. And she listens. She listens to Emily's voice. The words can't penetrate the fog of alcohol. But the voice… it tells its own story. It speaks volumes to the woman listening. Naomi listens and she remembers and she wonders, and in the very smallest, deepest, most hidden part of her heart, she wishes.

And then she laughs. And she cries. And she screams. And does each all at the same time, the joy of even this strange, distant virtual reconnection mingling with the still blinding pain of the real world disconnection. She lets go. She lets all her defenses drop and all her muddled, confused feelings spill out in their fucked up, aching glory. It's ugly and messy and hard and it _hurts_. But it helps.

"Shouldn't never've happened. S'Fucking wrong. S'all wrong. Should be talking to me. Just me. Should be here, with her sexy voice and perfect nose and… should be here. So I could… fuck. Tell me Ems. Should I hit you or fuck you? Magic question that. Fucking think I know?"

The spewed words and tears are not enough, though. Feeling it is not enough. She is Naomi Campbell, which means that she needs to _understand_ it. She needs to actually, finally, deal with it and find a way to get past it. Somehow. And so, in the wee hours of the morning, in the full bloom of her drunken haze she falls back on what she knows best: she writes. Words have always been her sanctuary. Words, she understands. Words, she's good with. So, to words she turns. Surely, if she writes it all down it will help ease the pressure that is crushing her chest. Surely she can make sense of it all on paper. Surely. In her haze it makes perfect, brilliant sense.

She grabs a pile of paper off her printer, and picks up the nearest blue pen, and starts scribbling. She pours her heart out, page after page; everything she feels, everything she felt, the love, the crushing loss, the anger, the fear, the sadness, the hope, the fear of hope, the emptiness. Everything.

She had been left with so many questions when Emily left. It was like she'd lost a limb, always expecting Emily to be there, always wondering why she wasn't: "What did I do? Why did you shut me out? Where did you go?"

Naomi had known that Emily wasn't happy with her work, with the dead-end part time jobs. She had known that Emily was tired and frustrated. She wasn't stupid. Or blind. But, it was fucking _temporary_, just until Naomi graduated. It wasn't forever. Then they were going to have everything they ever wanted. Everything they dreamed of. It would be Emily's turn to chase her dreams, and Naomi's turn to follow. And she would have followed, anywhere. Emily _knew_ that. She had to have known that. Didn't she? But obviously something changed. And Naomi wants to understand.

So she writes down what she wants - everything, more, anything, nothing?

She scribbles out what she needs – closure, a new beginning, an explanation, absolution?

She jots down what she wishes for in the darkest moments of her sleepless nights - Emily, to touch her, to love her, to be with her. Or not; to purge Emily from her thoughts, out of her heart, to let her go and to move on.

She goes back and forth like a pendulum, her desires changing with each memory, each emotion. She keeps writing it all, every bit of it, every contradiction, every intuition, every desire. Because it is all that she can do. And maybe, Jesus please, if she can write it all down, if she can spit it all out onto the paper, it will help ease the pain, help end the confusion.

When she runs out of words, some hours after she runs out of scotch, she stops. She leaves the tear-stained pages where they lie and stumbles her way to bed just as the sun starts to peak over the horizon. She vaguely gives thanks that it is Saturday, so she won't be fucking up yet another day's work, before she falls into the welcome oblivion of sleep.

It is many hours later when she begins to wake. She breathes a sigh of relief that she has slept through the worst of her hang-over. She still feels like shit, but not nearly as badly as she ought to given the damage she did to the scotch bottle the night before.

She peels off yesterday's clothes, and replaces them with a vest top and sweat pants. She stops to brush her teeth, to scrub the taste of day old swamp out of her mouth, and the remnants of tear-stained make-up from her face, then heads to the kitchen to put the kettle on. As she waits for it to boil, she wanders into the living room to look over the mess she left behind. There are pieces of paper everywhere, each one covered in her sprawling handwriting.

She moves forward to pick one up, her eyes casting over its contents before grabbing another and another. It's all there. All her feelings, splashed out across the pages. She is surprised at how legible it all is. But she is more surprised at how honest it is. Too honest. She can't read any more of it. It just hits too close and too hard. The desire for what she cannot have is too clear, too immovable to face up to. She is too fragile by far to face her truth in such stark, unwavering terms. In vino may be veritas, but that kind of truth is awfully hard to swallow sober. So, she quickly collects all the pages, balling them up in her hands as she does, until every page is accounted for. She strides to the kitchen and shoves them all into the bin. Out of sight, out of mind.

She feels better as soon as the pages are gone, and leans into the counter in relief. She stays there, head bowed, until the kettle sings, and then makes herself a pot of tea to help ease herself into what is left of the day.

She's on the last sip of her first cup when the knocking starts.

"Not interested. Sorry."

She yells out from where she sits, wanting nothing more than to be left alone. The knocking comes again, even louder than before.

"Fucking hell." Naomi crosses to the front door, pissed off and quite happy to make whatever sorry excuse for a solicitor who is banging on her door even sorrier.

"I said I wasn't interested…"

The words die in her throat as she sees who is on the other side of the door.

"May I come in?"

Naomi immediately starts to close the door again, but is thwarted when Effy sticks her foot in to block it.

"I'd really rather you didn't scuff these shoes, Naomi. They're Manolos."

Naomi is not happy to see her. But it is pretty clear that Effy isn't going to leave until she gets a chance to say her piece, so Naomi reluctantly lets her in.

"How'd you find me?"

Effy surveys the flat admiringly as she enters, before answering Naomi's question.

"Cook."

"Of course. Asshole. How'd he find you?" Naomi has moved so that she is on the other side of the sofa from Effy, a fact that is not at all lost on the visitor.

"You apparently told him where I work, and he's smart enough to figure out how to use the directory."

"Jesus, he crashed your office?"

"Yup."

"How bad?" Naomi's concern is real. An upset Cook would have been a real handful. It would be bad enough in private, but it could have been disastrous at Effy's workplace.

"Not, actually. He saved the yelling until we were in my office behind a closed door."

"Oh. Well, I'm glad for that at least."

"Thanks."

"I was, uh… I was just having some tea." Naomi gestures vaguely in the direction of the kitchen and starts heading that way.

"Tea would be nice."

The next moments are taken up with Naomi heating more water and making a fresh pot. Effy chooses to take a seat at the breakfast bar and simply watches as her friend moves around the kitchen.

Finally, Naomi brings the cups and pot as well as milk and spoons, and she runs out of ways to procrastinate. Effy waits for Naomi to sit and doctor her tea before beginning.

"I'm sorry, Nai. I never meant for you to find out like that."

"I know. I didn't mean to run out on you, Eff. It was just, well, a bit of a shock, you know."

"Yeah."

The silence is awkward, with neither woman knowing how best to break it.

"If you have any questions…"

"No! No. I really… I don't want to talk about it, Effy. I don't want to talk about her. Okay?"

Effy looks at her friend, judging the honesty of her words.

"Okay. I'll follow your lead."

It is quiet again, the only sounds the soft sipping of the tea, and the occasional squeak of the stools as the women shift in their seats.

"Have you eaten today, Naomi? You look a bit worse for wear."

"No, not yet. I actually kind of just got up."

"Well then, how about a bit of late breakfast. There's a place fairly close that serves a fry up all day."

When Naomi hesitates, her eyes guarded, Effy chimes in again. "Please, Naomi. Let me at least try to make it up to you, okay. It's just breakfast."

Naomi's stomach takes that cue to make its presence known with a rumbling growl, which causes the young barrister to blush crimson, and to agree. "Alright. Let me just grab a quick shower and change."

Effy decides to tidy the dishes in the kitchen while she waits. She loads the cups and spoons into the dishwasher, and pours off the last of the liquid into the sink. She grabs the tea bags out of the sink where they landed when she emptied the pot, and searches around until she finds the bin cupboard. She is closing the door again after tossing in the tea bags when she sees the word "Emily" on a crumpled up piece of paper. She knows she shouldn't, but she can't help reaching in to pull the pages out.

She can make out bits and pieces of phrases through the creases and bends:

"… _feel broken."_

"…_some days I hate you."_

"…_so beautiful…"_

"…_were happy, weren'__t we?__"_

"…_fucking left me…"_

"…_no one else like you__…__.__"_

At the sound of the bathroom door opening, Effy quickly re-crumples the papers and stuffs them back into the bin, making sure to better hide them from prying eyes like hers. She didn't get to see much. But she saw enough. And what she saw makes her impossible decision much easier.

She's determined now. Her non-interference has lasted long enough. She's going to find a way to bring Naomi and Emily together, at least to talk, no matter what Katie says. It's an almost impossible task, she knows, given how both Naomi and Emily are acting. Almost, but not entirely. She's faced worse odds.

It's time for Effy to step in, whether she's welcome or not.

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**.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.**

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**I have to tell you, flipping between present tense for "now" scenes and past tense for "then" scenes is doing my little writer's head in. I have been writing the linked chapters both at once, so it is a major brain strain to get right. MM has caught a few wrong tenses along the way, but they're sneaky little buggers! So, if I messed it up anywhere let me know and I'll fix it.**

**I can't wait for Effy to start knocking heads. Can you?**


	8. Chapter 8: The Promises We Meant to Keep

**I have to give a shout out to Gia12, who read reviewed every chapter of this story over two days last weekend, and followed up with a lovely PM. I should also mention the rest of the regular reviewer gang - you know who you are, and I hope you know how much I appreciate everyone of you! You make the time and effort involved in writing this more than worthwhile. I love every comment and question and critique, so thank you. And to all of you who have followed or favourited me or this story, well, thanks to you, too. Very much.  
**

**Finally, to my friend and amazing Beta Miss Marauder, a HUGE thank you for the shout out in the latest chapter of Educating Naomi (which was _fabulous!_). You have been cheering me on since the beginning, and I can't thank you enough.**

**Still not mine. Still kind of bummed about that.**

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**Chapter 8: Promises, promises  
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…_**Then**_

Effy had been worried about Naomi and Emily for a while. Ever since Emily's internship ended, the younger twin's calls to Katie had almost trickled out, and more often than not she didn't answer Katie's messages or texts. Naomi hadn't touched base in weeks either, pleading course work and exams every time Effy tried to pin her down to catch up.

Effie's "spidey sense" was tingling and she didn't like it. So, she carefully laid the groundwork for Katie to decide that it was high time that she and Effy paid her twin a visit in London again.

It was easy, really. As soon as Emily tried to _not_ invite them when her sister brought up the possibility of dropping in, Katie was more determined than ever to go. And so, on a rainy Autumn Friday, the two friends hopped the train to London and made their way by tube and cab to the little house with the purple door.

Emily wasn't home yet when they arrived, which was the first sign that something was not quite right. Emily hadn't seen Katie in weeks, and would normally have made sure to be home when they got there. Naomi explained about the bitch of a manager at the salon who wouldn't give Emily the time off, but didn't seem overly troubled by it. It was as though this was nothing new and Naomi had grown to accept it as normal.

Emily finally made her way through the door and up the four steps to the living room just after 7 p.m. She looked terrible, Effy thought, with dark circles under her eyes, and a lack of enthusiasm even about seeing her sister. There was no life to her, none of the typical Emily bubbliness and joie de vivre. She allowed hugs all around before saying that she wanted a quick shower to flush off the smell and grit of work. To Effy it seemed almost like Emily did not want to be at the house at all. And given how much Emily loved that house and the people in it, that was a very odd indeed.

"Alright Ems?" Naomi had leaned over to ask the question, her hand resting lightly on Emily's lower back before she left the room. Emily sighed softly, before looking up from under her lashes at her girlfriend.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Like I said, I just need a quick shower to rinse off."

Naomi looked as though she didn't quite believe that and was going to ask something else, but reconsidered, and gave Emily a quick kiss and an encouraging smile instead.

"Right then. Hurry back, Hun."

Naomi turned away before Emily had even cleared the threshold to the bathroom hallway, and turned to the visitors.

"Wine?"

Katie agreed wholeheartedly, while Effy simply nodded her assent, her thoughts pre-occupied. They were half way through their first glasses of a reasonably decent Cabernet when Emily returned, her hair still somewhat damp from the shower. Naomi stood up right away to retrieve the glass of wine that she had already poured for Emily, and passed it over accompanied by another light kiss, this time to the top of Emily's head. Her affection for the little redhead was obvious.

"Here you go, Love. It's that Cab you like so much."

"Thank you, Naoms."

There was a real appreciation in Emily's response, but it was fleeting, and she moved across the room to take a seat by Katie, instead of curling up on the sofa near her girlfriend.

The women sat and chatted through another glass of wine each before Katie asked what the plan was for supper. Emily looked over to Naomi, who had been home all afternoon, only to see Naomi's eyes widen and her face drop.

"You forgot, didn't you, Naomi?"

"I'm so sorry, Ems. I was on a roll with my constitutional law paper and going to the shop completely slipped my mind. I'm really sorry. I'll go now."

Emily sighed resignedly and began to stand up. "No. It's fine. I'll go."

Naomi looked sheepish and embarrassed, and was starting to stand up herself when Effy intervened.

"Hang on, Emily. I have a better idea. Let's go out somewhere. Katie and I will treat. Like a thank you for putting us up for the weekend."

Effy watched carefully as Emily mulled over the offer. After a short interval the twin threw a look back over her shoulder at Naomi before saying, "Thank you, Effy. That sounds lovely. It's very thoughtful of you."

Naomi knew that she had screwed up, so she rushed in to accept as well, with thanks, more than appreciative for the obvious bail out. As they all gathered to collect coats and bags Naomi made a point of getting Emily's coat, and holding it for her to put on. Emily allowed it, but offered no thanks, or really any recognition of the gesture at all.

Effy watched, as always, and took note. It was starting to look more and more as though her intuition had been spot on. All was definitely not well with Emily. But whether it was just a minor blip in her relationship with Naomi or a sign of something more serious, more worrying, was hard to tell.

Over dinner conversation, and then as they chatted once back at the house, Effy was able to get a better sense of things. Emily was obviously still annoyed with Naomi for forgetting supper, but it was more than that. From her occasional muttered comments, it was clear, to Effy at least, that Emily wasn't happy with any of her current jobs, and that she deeply missed the radio work from her internship. The only time her eyes really lit up was when she was telling stories about the radio experience, and the effects of that loss seemed to be ever present.

But every time Emily said anything to suggest that things were not ideal, Naomi made light of it, as if trying to sweep the issue away. She made several comments to the effect that, "It will be over soon, Em, I'll graduate and then you can quit the McJobs and go after what you really want."

Naomi was trying to be helpful, in her own way, and to be supportive. But, her focus was always about how things would be better _later_, with never a solution for _now_. And as Effy watched each exchange through the evening she realized that nothing Naomi said provided any solace to Emily at all, and in fact it was probably making it all even worse.

The women called it an early night after supper, the travelers and Emily being tired from the day. Effy watched her hosts disappear behind the closed door of their bedroom and found herself almost hoping to have her sleep interrupted by the wild moans and screams that were the hallmark of most Emily/Naomi night-time encounters. But her sleep was not disturbed that night. Not a single peep was heard from the master bedroom until the following morning.

Naomi had to head out late morning to attend a study group. It was decided over a breakfast of tea and toast that the other three women would join her at the coffee shop where the study group was meeting once the get-together was over. The trio arrived as planned just as the group was breaking up. Introductions were made all around, as Emily had never met the members of this particular group before, and of course, Katie and Effy were new faces to them all.

Everything was going fine until Naomi stepped aside to introduce the last member of the group, Jessica. It was dislike at first sight, especially for Emily. Emily wasn't sure if it was the woman's Sophia-like jean shorts or her perfect posture or the too frequent touches (one was too many, and there was a lot more than one) that Jessica dropped on Naomi's arm as she spoke. Emily just knew that she didn't like this woman. She didn't like her, and she didn't trust her. At all. Her hackles went up instantly, and obviously, much to Naomi's embarrassment.

Emily raked her eyes up and down Jessica, a slight look of distaste flitting across her face, before shaking her hand using the least amount of skin to skin contact possible, barely allowing her finger tips to be clasped by the other woman. Unlike with the other students she had been introduced to, Emily did not offer up her usual "Nice to meet you" to Jessica, turning instead to Naomi to demand, "So, are you ready to go or what?"

This instant antipathy towards Jessica was palpable, and it made the whole atmosphere so uncomfortable that while Naomi packed up her books, Katie pulled Emily out of the shop to find out what on earth had got into her twin.

"What the hell was that, Emily?"

"She was all over Naomi, Katie. Don't tell me you wouldn't have backed her off, too."

"I might have, if Naomi had given the slightest indication that she was interested. But she didn't, Emily."

"She didn't exactly push her away, either, did she Katie?"

"Jesus, Emily, they _study_ together. She can't just go being rude or whatever. I mean, I know Naomi fucked up before, and I'm not exactly her biggest fan for how she hurt you, you know that. But she loves you, you idiot. You have nothing to worry about. Naomi is yours, and you have your well awesome home together, and a great life…"

"Oh yeah. Some great life I've got, Katie. Fucking brilliant it is. I work and I sleep and I eat. I hardly even _see_ Naomi anymore because our schedules are so fucked. I get shit on - literally, I might add - by dogs in the morning, and then the rest of the day I get to deal with poncy fuckers who look down on me and think they're better than me 'cause I work such shit jobs, not to mention a boss who fucking _lives_ to yell at me... Jesus, Katie. I've _got_ no fucking life, can't you see?"

Katie was shocked by the vehemence of Emily's tirade, and the frustrated, angry tears her sister was trying to hold back. She didn't know quite what to say to calm her down or to make her feel better. The level of bitterness didn't make sense to her, not when Emily had so much to be happy about. It's not like Katie was in love with her job either, but she made do.

"I know it feels like things well suck right now, Emily, work-wise and such. But in a couple of years you'll be able to do anything you want, you know? Just like Naomi said. You can get back into radio, then, right? I mean really, it could be a lot fucking worse, yeah. You need to learn to appreciate what you've got, don't you?"

Effy came out just in time to hear the end of that, and to see Emily's response to being told, in so many words, to suck it up and get happy. She silenced Katie with a touch to her arm, but the damage was done. Emily clammed right up, retreating into herself and shoving her anger and hurt deep inside. She started walking home ahead of them, not looking back to see who was following or even if they were following, leaving the other three to try to tiptoe around her the rest of the day. She didn't talk to Katie or anyone else about anything of significance for the rest of the night, and certainly not about her feelings or her regrets.

Eff knew that nothing was resolved, though. Emily's reticence was hiding some very real problems. Effy's best guess was that Emily was tired, stressed and possibly depressed. And unless Effy missed the mark, Emily was feeling at least a bit taken for granted by her lover. For all Naomi loved Emily, she had a bad habit of just assuming that Emily was strong enough to handle anything and everything, and that she would always be fine. Even this latest conflict got written off by Naomi as though Emily just frazzled and needed to get a bit more sleep. The heart sees what it wants to sometimes, Effy supposed. Effy partially agreed that what was bugging Emily wasn't really about jealousies - old or new. But it sure as hell was about more than a lack of sleep, and the fact that Naomi wasn't facing up to that was a concern.

So, Effy decided that it was time to use her talents to sort at least some of this shit out. She knew that what was going on with Emily needed to be fixed. The first step was to pry Naomi's eyes open to the seriousness of what was going on right under her nose, or at a minimum to get her to pay some real attention to Emily. But having seen Naomi's reactions to Emily's various comments over the previous few days, and in particular the way Naomi's attempts to soothe Emily invariably involved minimizing the issue or talking about how it would be better once Naomi graduated, or otherwise deferring the issues instead of resolving them, Effy knew that a direct approach was not the way to go. Emily needed Naomi to make something happen right then, not months or years later, and Effy decided to try to gently push Naomi in the right direction.

The first step was to convince the blonde to take the day off from studying. That turned out to be easier than expected when Sunday dawned unusually bright and warm and beautiful for November. The next step was to suggest a walk in the park, followed by a late brunch at a new Brazilian restaurant downtown with a growing reputation for making fabulous caipirinhas, heavy on the lime. The lure of a new drink experience was enough to convince them all to accept Effy's proposal.

The atmosphere among the women was much better by the time brunch was over, with each of them being happily buzzed on multiple rounds of the bittersweet cocktail and the sheer comfort of really good food. The conversation had flowed almost easily, with more than a little laughter along the way. Katie had managed to apologize, without in any way actually apologizing, as was the usual way between the twins, and Emily seemed to have accepted. All in all, the tension that had been so present the night before had abated. Even though Emily still looked tired and a bit disengaged, by the time they left the restaurant she was once again arm in arm with Naomi and her easy smile had returned. A slight shadow still hung across her face, but she was more herself than she had been since the weekend began.

That made the time ripe for the third step in Effy's plan - a walk by a small silversmith's workshop and gallery she knew about that was located a few short blocks from the restaurant. Effy knew that as soon as Katie laid eyes on it she would want to go in to check it out. Emily and Naomi would naturally follow, which was exactly what Effy wanted to see happen.

She stood back, seemingly aloof, as she watched her friends explore the boutique and its one-of-a-kind wares. She paid particular attention to Emily, her sharp blue eyes taking note of where the younger twin stopped and what pieces grabbed her attention. She knew that she'd found her mark when Emily stopped to pick up a pendant from one of the display tables.

It was sappy, and mushy and just what the little redhead would pine after. There was a vertical infinity symbol imposed over a stylized heart, all in oxidized silver, almost black in places, with a simple but stylish chain. It was not something that Effy would ever consider wearing, but it fit the romantic-at-heart Emily to a "t".

Effy sidled over to Naomi and nudged her. "Take a look over there," she whispered, nodding her head towards where Emily stood, with the necklace in her hand. Once Effy was sure that Naomi had noticed Emily's interest, she moved on to talk with Katie, and then to ask a few questions of the artist who was working on some new pieces in the workshop area at the back of the store. She trusted that Naomi was smart enough to take the hint, and, thankfully, her trust was not misplaced this time.

Naomi quietly picked up the pendant and moved to the checkout to buy it. She declined to have it wrapped, and instead carried it over to where Emily stood gazing out at a row of rings, and stepped behind her.

"I got something for you." Naomi spoke gently into Emily's ear, causing the younger girl to turn towards her.

"Oh, yeah?" A real, unreserved smile broke across Emily's face at the thought of a gift from Naomi. The blonde couldn't help but smile back. She held up the necklace for Emily to see, before lifting her arms to lovingly place it around Emily's neck.

Emily's eyes grew wide as she saw the gift.

"How did…?"

"I was watching. I saw you admiring it, so…" Naomi ducked her head, suddenly feeling shy in the face of Emily's gratitude.

Emily reached up to wrap her arms around Naomi's neck and kissed her. She held on, standing on tip toe, to envelop Naomi in a tight hug before finally releasing her. Naomi was thrilled to feel Emily's arms hold her so close. It was a relief to have Emily touch her so affectionately again, after the coldness of the last day and the distance of the days before it. Things had been off between them since the internship ended, Naomi knew, Emily's disappointment taking longer than expected to fade. But maybe this could be the start of a happier phase for Emily. That was Naomi's hope, anyway.

Their tender moment was interrupted by Katie, who was looking on and making gagging noises until Effy elbowed her firmly in the ribs.

"Thank you, Naoms. I love it. I'll never take it off. I promise."

Emily meant it, at the time, in that moment. She meant every word of it.

Naomi just grinned, relieved to have done something right, and to have found a way to make Emily happy again.

"Good. 'Cause I love you, Ems. I really do. Forever."

Emily felt so much better at hearing those words. She felt equal and valued. She felt loved. She felt hope.

And, in that brief, shining moment, Emily felt happy, truly happy, again.

She wanted to grab hold and bottle the feeling forever.

If only she could have.

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**.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.**

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**I couldn't resist referencing Brazil in honour of Kaya. If you haven't had a caipirinha, I encourage you to try one. They are extremely drinkable :)**

**Thoughts, comments and questions always gratefully received. You just have to hit the little button. You know, the one just down there...  
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	9. Chapter 9: Choices

**You are all amazingly lovely and kind. I am thoroughly enjoying the comments and questions you have been leaving, and it is really nice to see the story is still picking up new readers and followers. You make me very happy!**

**Y'all know I don't own it. Not sure why I keep saying it.**

**Chapter 9 – Choices**

…_**Now**_

Effy manages to make it through the late afternoon "breakfast" at the dim, slightly musty local diner without tipping her hand to Naomi. She stays far away from any mention of the binned pages or Naomi's coffee shop freak out or anything to do with Emily at all. She needs to clear things with Katie first, before she dives into it with Naomi. And so she simply waits, sitting comfortably in the silence between them, watching Naomi slowly eat and pound down cup after white-ceramic cup of the stale, bitter brew that is on offer.

Naomi, of course, doesn't mention the pages or Emily either, but that doesn't mean that they aren't on her mind. In fact, very little else is, including the woman sitting across from her. Naomi is beyond distracted as the hard truths of her late night revelations eke their way through her feeble barriers to torment her. There are long gaps between the bites she takes, and she has mindlessly torn her paper place mat almost to shreds before her meal is even half-finished.

Effy watches, without comment, as Naomi's thought wheels visibly turn. She is glad to see Naomi struggling - in the sense that it means that her troubled friend is no longer simply ignoring or burying her feelings. Whatever happens next, no good can come if Naomi won't at least acknowledge that she still wants _something_ from Emily. What exactly that something ends up being is still to be seen, but that something _is_ wanted is now beyond question, thanks to the blue ink that lies scrawled across the mass of crumpled pages in the dust bin. So, Effy lets Naomi think, and shift, and sigh and generally get lost in her own head, and makes only the occasional interruption to ask the waitress for more tea or Naomi to please pass the sugar.

When the almost silent meal is finally over, Effy accompanies Naomi back to the door of her building, leaving her with sincere (albeit faint-hoped) wishes for a good night's sleep. It is a sign of Naomi's preoccupation that she does not even think to question how easily she has escaped the conversation with Effy, or how unusual it is that Effy would take "I don't want to talk about it" as an answer.

Effy, for her part, begins to brace herself for what will undoubtedly turn into a confrontation with Katie. She would like to think that they could discuss this without arguing, but Katie is so protective of Emily now, and Emily has been so adamant that she is not ready to handle dealing with Naomi in any shape or form, that the chances of this going well are slim to none.

When she enters through the door of the Highgate flat, she finds the older twin lying on the black leather couch in their living room, tucked snugly under an afghan throw and watching a Project Runway marathon.

"Did you sort it?"

"Hello, Katie. Nice to see you, too."

Katie's head does not shift from the television as she responds.

"Fine. Hello, Effy. How was your day, Luv? Did you fucking sort it?"

"I saw Naomi, if that's what you mean."

Katie finally looks over to where Effy is pulling off her boots by the door, angling her arm across the back of the couch to do so.

"Actually, no, Effy. I mean, did you sort it?"

Effy should have known better than to think she could sneak one by Katie after all this time. Rather than continue to talk from across the room, she walks in stocking feet to lean against the arm of the matching chair that sits diagonally to the left of the sofa.

"Not exactly."

Katie doesn't bother to respond to that. She just mutes the t.v. before turning back to stare at Effy, unblinking, waiting for an explanation.

"We talked. About everything _except_ the situation. She didn't want to talk about Emily, Katie. I couldn't exactly force her."

"Right. So not sorted, then."

"No. But… Look, I know you don't want to hear this, but I think we should rethink what we're doing here. She still cares about her, Katie. And I believe that she wants to see her, needs to, actually. And I want to help her."

"How the fuck can you know any of that if she wouldn't talk to you about it, Eff? I mean really, what the actual fuck is going on with you?"

Effy knows that she is going to have to violate another confidence if she has any chance of convincing Katie to play along. She doesn't like the idea and hates that she keeps finding herself in this position lately. She has always kept Naomi's secrets, from the very beginning when Naomi came out to her, however indirectly, at that bloody rave. It feels wrong to change that now, but she can't lie to Katie either, and that means that she really has no choice but to share at least a little of what she knows.

"She wrote about it, Katie. Pages and pages of it from what I could see. And every bit that I saw, it was about her, about Emily. About missing her. About wanting her. About wanting to understand her. I don't think Naomi ever really stopped loving her, K. Not ever. And she wants to know what happened. She wants to know why."

There is a pause as Effy marshals her thoughts, to better explain why she feels so strongly about this and Katie struggles mightily to keep from interrupting, let alone from screaming her growing displeasure and disbelief.

"I get that, Katie. I _get_ wanting to know what happened." Effy shrinks into herself at this point, bracing herself to think about the one things she wishes most to forget.

"I'll never know what really happened with Freddie and Foster, or why. I carry that will me every single day. It weighs me down, Katie. And I know that if I had the chance… If I could sit down with Foster to ask why… Even with how much I hate him - fuck that, how much I _despise_ him – I would. I would do that, Katie. So that I could know. It's the wondering that kills you, you see. It fucking tears you apart. And it never ends, it never fades. So, yeah. I get why Naomi wants to know. And I think Emily owes her that, at least that, after everything."

Katie is shocked by Effy's words – both by what they say and the fact that they were said at all. It takes the wind right out of her sails as she listens, and it brings home just how serious Effy is about this. As close as they have been over the years, and as much as Katie was there for Effy in those horrible days after Feddie's body was found, Effy has never talked about this. She has never spoken about how not knowing why had affected her.

Katie remembers well how dark the days after Freddie's death were for Effy, and how hard Effy worked to come back from her despair. She remembers how broken her friend was and how much it hurt to watch Effy go through that pain. She knows without doubt that if there had been something that she could do to ease Effy's suffering back then she would have moved heaven and earth to make it happen. It is those memories, and the consequent understand of why Effy now wants to do whatever she can to alleviate Naomi's pain, that compels Katie to let Effy finish speaking. Instead of shutting Effy down the way she intended to, she deliberately eases back onto the couch, consciously relaxing her posture and cocking her head in a motion that lets Effy know that she should continue, and that Katie will hear her out.

Effy shifts off the chair arm that she has been resting on, and onto the seat cushion, leaning forward with her hands clasped on top of her knees. Her brow is furrowed as she tries to shake off the pain that thinking about losing Freddie always brings her.

"It's not just Naomi, K. I think Emily needs it, too. She's got it all bottled up inside, yeah? She's never forgiven herself. You know she hasn't. I'm not sure she can, actually; not unless Naomi forgives her first. And I understand why the idea of seeing Naomi again scares the piss out of her, I really do. But she's miserable, Katie. And she's lonely, however much she tries to pretend she isn't. I think… I think she misses her, too. I think, if she can just get past her fear, she'd fucking kill for a chance to make it right."

Effy holds Katie's eyes with her own, until Katie breaks the connection, her own eyes dropping to the floor.

"I know."

"What?" Effy can't quite believe that she has heard correctly.

"I know she misses her. She has since the day she left. At some level she's wanted to undo it almost from the beginning. But that's the whole problem, Effy, isn't it? She's proper terrified that if she sees her, if she does anything to try to make it right, she'll fall right back into it again and she'll end up right back in that black hole where she was, just as fucked up as she was, and then what, Ef? When she breaks again, how do we fix her then?"

Katie's voice is hoarse with the emotions that thinking about those days brings back, but still strong with the resolve to do nothing that might end up causing her sister more pain.

"Nothing says they have to make the same mistakes again, Katie. Nothing says they can't do better. Just look at me. No hole was blacker than mine, K. Yet here I am."

"Jesus. You don't know what you're asking of me, Effy…"

Effy knows that Katie is worried about her twin. No one knows better how lost and fragile Emily was when she left Naomi than Katie does. Effy watched it unfold, but it was Katie who took the brunt of it - the middle of the night phone calls, the oceans of tears. It was Katie who helped Emily rebuild the shattered fragments of her life.

"All I'm asking for right now is for you to think about it, K. Please. Just think about it."

Katie shifts in her seat, biting her lower lip as she deliberates. Effy stays perfectly still, not wanting to break the delicate balance of the moment.

Finally, Katie looks up again, her eyes locking on Effy's trying to find something there to hold onto.

"I can't go on just your gut this time, Effy. I'm sorry. I just can't."

Effy ponders that a moment, before a sly, scheming smirk breaks across her face as her eyes spark with a calculating cunning.

"Fair enough. How about we go on _your_ gut instead?"

.

**.~.~.~.~.~.~.**

.

The next morning, Naomi is just finishing washing the breakfast dishes when her mobile buzzes with Effy's text.

_ - Join me for coffee? Usual spot. I'm bored._

Naomi isn't sure that she can stand another moment rattling around her empty flat, so she rather leaps at the offer.

_ - Sounds good. Give me a half hour._

There is a bitter chill in the air that makes Naomi walk quickly on her way to the coffee shop. As she arrives at glass front of the store her thoughts are on what drink she should order to warm herself with, and whether to order with whipped cream or not. She knows that she would prefer whatever concoction Casey and Sue would whip up, but she is not willing to share them, or their little shop, even with Effy, so, over-priced, over-rated chain coffee it will be.

She can see Effy facing away from her at a back corner table, still in her warm wool pea coat. The place is crowded, even for a Sunday, so she heads straight to the counter to place her order, settling on a large cappuccino, no whipped cream. She weaves her way through the pockets of patrons until she arrives at the table, hailing her friend as she walks up behind her.

"Hey, Effy."

You could push Naomi over with a feather, so shocked is she as the woman turns towards her.

"…. _Katie_?"

Katie waits a moment for Naomi to gather herself before prompting her.

"You going to sit down, then?"

Naomi thinks a long time about that question, then finally moves around to sit on the bench across from Katie.

"Well…?"

Naomi can't seem to come up with anything more lucid to say than that. She flashes to the last time she found herself facing Katie in a coffee shop, all those years ago when Katie tormented her with the news of JJ and …. well. This is not _that_ Katie, Naomi knows. A lot has changed since those days. But for the life of her she cannot imagine what Katie wants from her now, or why Effy would set her up like this.

"Relax, Naomi. I don't plan to bite."

Naomi flicks her fringe back as she sputters a short, shocked response. "Glad to hear that."

"You look like shit, Campbell."

Katie slowly pulls off the coat that she swapped from Effy to help create the subterfuge and tucks it onto the bench beside her as Naomi responds.

"Yeah. Thanks for that, Katie."

"Effy's worried about you."

"Is she then? Is that why you're here? To see the carnage for yourself…"

Katie smirks at that, enjoying the fact that Naomi's first reaction even after all these years is to snark at her.

"Partly. Mostly though, I just thought it was time we met again, what with you and Effy getting close, and with you knowing that …"

Naomi cuts her off before she can speak of Emily, latching onto the first thing she can think of to ask; in truth, something she has long wondered.

"Why were you so nice to me? When it ended. With the house and everything."

Katie decides to accept the change of subject and the challenge for the moment, knowing full well what prompted it.

"Because I love my sister. And whatever else was going on then, she didn't want to hurt you any more than she had to. She didn't want to make it any harder. Neither did I."

Naomi looks across the table incredulously. "Why would you care? You never liked me, Katie, we both know that. You tolerated me for Emily's sake."

Katie chooses not to argue that point, although it is not strictly accurate.

"Look. What happened sucked. For both of you. I didn't like the idea of you having to sort all the logistics of packing up and selling the house by yourself. I knew what it meant to you, and, well… I didn't think you should have to deal with it alone. I convinced Emily to give me her power of attorney so I could take care of her part. She agreed easily enough. So, it was nothing, really. I'm not bloody Mother Theresa, here, Campbell."

"Hardly. Still, I never thanked you for what you did. For taking care of her part of all that. It would have been murder to finalize the sale without you stepping in."

"That's not what you said at the time, Campbell."

Katie smiles wryly with those words, remembering how abrupt and flat-out rude Naomi was when it was Katie who arrived at the estate agent's instead of Emily.

"I'll admit, when you first showed up I could have gleefully throttled you. With great enthusiasm. But that was about her, not you, you know? I couldn't believe she hated me so much that she couldn't even stand to spend 5 minutes with me to sign the bloody sale agreement. It was hard enough selling it in the first place without adding that on."

Naomi's voice breaks slightly as she mentions the little house, before she manages to regain her composure.

"She never hated you, Naomi."

Naomi looks to Katie with disbelief, her lip curling up into a tight grimace as she wraps her arms around herself as though to protect herself from a blow.

"Right. Sure. Bloody funny way of showing it."

"Yeah, well…"

An awkward pause descends as the two women reflect back on those troubled days.

"So, why are you here, Katie? Why get Effy to play me like this."

"Well, you were hardly likely to agree to see me if I asked, were you?"

When Naomi doesn't respond, Katie carries on, "No, I didn't think so."

"Fine. That explains the ruse. But why did you want to talk to me?"

"You can blame Effy for that. She thinks she's smarter than the rest of us, and I need to know if she's right."

Naomi's growing impatience is evident, as is her confusion.

"I'm not following, Katie. Can you for fuck's sake just spit it out?" Naomi is both weary and wary of this exchange, and it shows in the tone of her voice and the sharp shake of her head.

"Effy thinks you and Emily should meet, to talk."

Naomi jumps at hearing Emily's name spoken out loud, even before her brain translates the meaning of Katie's words.

"What the fuck?!"

"Effy seems to think that it would be good for you to have a chance to work out your "issues." She thinks you have questions that you need answered."

"Does she then? And who the fuck gave her the right to an opinion on that?"

"Yeah, she's well annoying that way, I know. But the worst of it is, she's usually right, isn't she? So tell me, is she right about you?"

Naomi sits under Katie's careful observation, trying desperately to keep up her walls and to hold onto the front that everything is fine. But, of course, it's not fine. And Effy isn't wrong.

"It hardly matters what I want or don't want, does it, if Em… if _she_ doesn't wish to speak with me. And since we both know that she's been in London for bloody weeks now without making any effort to reach out to me, well… it seems pretty clear that she doesn't wish any such thing, doesn't it?"

Katie watches Naomi fume for another few moments.

"So, Effy's right then. You do want to see her."

Naomi scoffs, but doesn't answer, snatching instead at the bowl of sugar packs that sits at the side of the booth to empty a handful onto the tabletop. She begins playing with the granules as though the sugar is sand and the table is some kind of over-sized zen garden. After a moment, as her movements become less frenzied and her anger somewhat dims, Naomi manages to respond.

"She's not wrong. Not entirely. But she's not right, either. Not completely."

"Okay…"

"I do… have questions. I mean, fuck, you know I never got any answers, Katie."

"I know."

"So… yeah. Some answers would be nice. But…"

"But?"

Naomi flicks her eyes towards Katie, but avoids making actual eye contact.

"I don't know… I'm not sure how I feel about the idea of actually _seeing_ her, you know? Of that being real. The idea of it is… tolerable, almost, as a theory. But to actually do it… to be face to face with her… I don't know."

"I can understand that."

Katie levels sympathetic eyes on the woman whom she had actually come to like and respect over the years (not that she ever admitted that to anyone). She can see what Effy was talking about. She can see that Naomi is still very strongly connected to Emily. But what she can't tell is whether that connection is enough to risk Emily's fragile new stability.

"Do you still love her, Naomi?"

The question, though gently put, is still blunt, and it is a definite shock to Naomi.

"…What?"

"Do. You. Still. Love. Her?"

"… I… No… I… maybe… fuck, I don't know. Maybe … a bit? I guess. Maybe. I don't know."

"Well, that was articulate. And not fucking good enough, obviously."

"Not good enough for what? Fucking hell… What is this, Katie? What the hell do you want from me?"

Katie looks back across at Naomi, considering, assessing.

"I'm trying to decide if I should help you, Naomi. And so far, I must say you haven't given me much reason to. You don't even know how you feel, let alone what you want."

That is enough to finally piss Naomi off and spark a bit of her old fire. Her eyes flash dangerously as she leans across into Katie's space to confront her.

"Jesus, Katie she left _me_, not the other way around, remember? So I don't appreciate the fucking third degree here. How the fuck am I supposed to know what I want, eh? Think about it, Katie. It's you sitting here, _not_ her. It's you asking me what I want, _not_ her. _She's_ not the one tracking me down to ask to fix things. _She_'s not the one asking me what I want or telling me what she wants. No. She shut me out and ran off to fucking Ireland, Katie, and has ignored my very fucking _existence_ since she got back. So, tell me, please, since you apparently have all the fucking answers, how the hell I'm supposed to know what I want when she hasn't given me the first fucking clue that what I want even _matters_?"

Naomi's chest is heaving with anger and distress by the time she stops talking, and she is fighting hard to hold back tears. When she speaks again, it is with a slightly softer tone, and with a degree of resignation that shows how little hope she has left for anything good to come from any of this.

"Jesus, Katie. You don't get it. This is… fucking hell this is…. Just seeing _you_ is hard, Katie. I can't even imagine seeing her. I don'tknow what I feel about her right now. I don't. And I don't really know what I want from her either, or even if I want something from her. But…"

Naomi pauses to wipe away the tears that are now sliding down her face before trying again to express what she is feeling, not even trying any more to hide from Katie how much this conversation is costing her.

"But Effy's not wrong. Not completely, anyway. I realized the other night… I realized… I don't know. I may not want to see her, exactly. But I think, maybe, I need it. I think maybe I need her to tell me why."

Naomi stops talking, her index finger moving randomly without pause through the pile of sugar, her thoughts whirling in her distress.

"I can't shake it, see, Katie. I can't seem to get past it at all. So, maybe Effy's right. Maybe she and I…"

"You mean _Emily _and you?"

Katie won't let Naomi avoid the very real person who lies behind this discussion. It is Emily they are talking about, not some abstraction, and there is no way that she is going to let Naomi forget that even for a moment.

"Yeah."

"You can't even say her name, can you Naomi?" Katie's voice is gentle, revealing her growing understanding of just how much Naomi still hurts.

"If you can't even say her name, how will be able to face her? How will you be able to talk to her?"

Naomi shakes her head, her eyes clenching tightly as she breathes in deeply and then replies.

"I don't know, Katie. I really don't. Honestly, I'm not even entirely sure that I _want_ to talk to her, like I said. I just think, maybe, I need to try."

The two sit, with Katie watching Naomi's every expression while Naomi avoids looking at Katie as much as she can. The silence is not uncomfortable, not exactly, but it is loaded as both women consider the implications of the information that they have shared.

It is Naomi who breaks the stillness, almost surprising herself as she speaks aloud thoughts that she has hardly dared to allow herself to contemplate let alone articulate.

"Slowly. It would have to be done slowly. If we were to meet, that is. I couldn't… We wouldn't be able to talk about anything big at first, nothing important. We'd just…. see how it feels, for both of us. And if it feels wrong, then… well, I guess we'd stop."

Katie can understand where Naomi is coming from, but she knows that such an approach would not be good for Emily.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea, Naomi. The part about stopping once you've started, I mean. I think that if you did that, if you walked away after seeing her without resolving anything… I think that would be worse than not meeting at all. It would well mess you up, the both of you. I can't have her going through everything that facing you will involve only for you to run away if it gets hard. Because it will, Naomi. It will get hard. I know you know that."

Naomi shakes her head, eyes locked on the sugar pile and her finger's random passage through it, watching the crystals swirl and spin.

"I can't make you any promises, Katie. Not like that. You know what it did to me. You can see what it's still doing to me. So, no, I can't promise you that I won't walk away. I do still care about her, whether I want to or not. Because I loved her. Like once in a lifetime, nothing else will ever compare loved her. But… it's tearing me apart me, that we never really faced it or talked about it. And if what you just said is true then maybe not facing it is tearing her apart, too. I think it must be, really. Because I can't imagine why on earth you would be here right now if you didn't think that seeing me might help her, too."

She makes eye contact then, Naomi does, daring Katie to deny the possibility that she has just laid out. Naomi isn't stupid. She knows the only reason Katie would be doing this is to try to help Emily. But that's okay. If helping Emily means that Naomi gets some of what she needs too, then so be it. Katie gives Naomi a long, deliberative look in return. She knows what Emily has suffered because of how everything went down. And she also knows how much Emily still beats herself up over it. And she knows that Emily needs some way to put it to rest. Katie's not sure that she can trust Naomi with this, she's not sure at all. But she's tried everything else to help Emily move on, really move on and not just survive, without success. And Effy truly believes this could help. At this point Katie wants to believe it, too.

"Well, what _can_ you promise then, Naomi?"

Naomi slowly takes a sip of her now very cold drink, wincing at the sensation as it hits her tongue and teeth. She replaces the cup on the table and takes a deep, shuddering sigh before answering the question.

"I can promise to try, Katie. And I can promise that I don't want to hurt her. I don't. I'm mad at her, fucking furious sometimes, and I'm sad and sometimes I just want to yell at her, to just fucking scream. But I don't want to hurt her and, if I do this, _if_ I do, I'll try to make sure that doesn't happen."

Katie's eyes close as she tries to decide what to do. The leap to action is so huge, and the consequences of getting it wrong so potentially awful that she is tempted to play ostrich and just forget the whole thing. But despite herself she has started to believe that Effy might be right, and this could be the best chance to help Emily in the end.

"Alright."

Katie begins gathering her things and eases her way out of the booth, as Naomi watches her, taken by surprise by the quick change of gears.

"Oh, one last thing…"

"Jesus, Katie, what now?"

Naomi is positively reeling from the effects of the conversation and actually physically braces herself for whatever is going to come next.

"You're not allowed to kill Effy."

"Ha!" The relief is immediate, and Naomi laughs wryly as the tension ebbs. "No promises on that one, Katie."

Katie's smile goes from ear to ear at the response, before she turns towards the tall brunette who is gliding up to their table. She switches coats with Effy, taking her own back from her friend.

"Your turn, Eff. Don't fuck it up."

Effy nods in acknowledgement to Katie, understanding that she has her friend's approval to proceed, before slipping gracefully in the booth across from Naomi.

"You are _such_ an asshole, Stonem. What, you've been here watching the whole fucking time?"

If Effy was a different sort of person, the furious glare that she was getting from Naomi would have turned her to stone. Instead, she just grins knowingly, her delight at getting Katie's go-ahead overwhelming any concerns she may have had about having pissed Naomi off.

"Whatever. You can thank me later."

"Thank you? Fucking hell, Effy! You just fucking ambushed me over here. Why the fuck would I _thank_ you?"

"Because, you pillock, I'm going to help you. And, thanks to me, you can pretty much be sure that Katie isn't going to kill you along the way. Seems like a good start to me."

Naomi chews on that for a moment before grudgingly accepting the truth of it. She knows, deep down, that she wouldn't have the nerve to do this on her own, if at all, and she is aware enough to acknowledge that she probably owes Effy a debt of gratitude for getting Katie, if not on board with the plan, at least not actively trying to interfere.

"All right, genius. What now?"

"Now, you go see her."

Naomi's gaze jerks up at those words, and her whole body stiffens.

"I never agreed to that Effy. I'm not sure yet that is what I should really do. So…"

"You can do it, Naomi. And you should do it. And I will be here to help when you do."

"Why are you pushing this, Effy? Why push me like this, and use Katie, and… what the fuck are you thinking, Eff, because I can't for the life of me figure out your angle here."

Effy examines her friend, taking in every signal, every nuance of her words and movement and posture.

"Because you are my friend. And so is she. And you need this."

"Jesus. It really is that simple for you, isn't it?"

"It's not simple. And it won't be easy. But we both know it has to be done. You need this. So let me help you."

Naomi is torn, really torn, about what to do. It is what she wants, what she has wanted for a long time. But now that it is, possibly, within her grasp she is almost paralyzed at the thought of it.

"Honestly, Nai, I don't think things can get much worse, do you?"

Naomi considers that, and she has to admit that as badly as doing this could turn out, it really can't be a whole lot worse than doing nothing. Effy can tell the moment the shift occurs, and she dives in, not letting Naomi change her mind again.

"Good. So, the first step is to get you to meet. I can help with that. But there are a couple of conditions. When you do it, it's got to be in public unless she says otherwise, so she can leave if she wants to. And you have to _let_ her leave if she wants to Naomi. Katie's rules. They're non-negotiable."

Naomi takes a moment to consider what she is being offered, this new and entirely unexpected plan that is taking shape almost without her volition or consent. She considers her options and the friend before her carefully before making her decision.

"Fine. That sounds… yeah, that's fine."

Effy tells Naomi about Emily's routine then, at least the parts that Katie agreed that she can disclose, about where Emily goes and when, about the park she jogs in and her favourite bookstore and even what Whole Foods Emily gets her veg at. Effy doesn't tell Naomi where Emily lives and specifically bars Naomi from trying to find that out, as well as making Naomi swear to not go to step foot at her workplace. It is a lot to take in for the young lawyer, and the toll shows in the way that she curls into herself on the booth bench.

"Right, then. When will you start?"

Naomi barks a laugh, "Whenever I can find the bottle to."

"For what it's worth, I suggest sooner rather than later. The longer you wait the more freaked out you're going to get. Best to just dive in, like a cold lake. Get it over with, like ripping a bandage off. Suck it back, like bitter medicine…"

"Are you kidding me with the cheesy analogies?"

"Just trying to lift the mood a bit, Nai, before you actually have the heart attack you're working your way up to."

"Really helpful, Eff. Thanks."

There is an edge of bitterness creeping in to Naomi's sarcasm again, which Effy recognizes as a Naomi-esque response to fear.

"Seriously, Nai. You can do this. And I _will_ be here to help. One thing I learned from all the shite I've gone through is you've got to stick with the people you love. And you've got to let yourself lean on the ones who love you back. So, you don't have to do this alone, alright? When you're ready, I'll be here."

There are tears in Naomi's eyes as she looks over to her friend.

"Thank you."

"Alright then. Enough chit chat. Walk you home?"

"No, thanks. I think I'm going to sit for a bit."

"Alright." Effy grabs her coat and bag and rises from the booth. She briefly places a hand to Naomi's shoulder. "Good night, Naomi."

The two women share a cautious smile before Effy heads for door. And as shell shocked as Naomi is left feeling by the whole encounter, she can't help but think that maybe she can actually do this. Maybe, just maybe, with a little help from her friends and a little faith in herself and a whole lot of nerve, she can get the answers she's been wanting all these years.

.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

.

**Well, finally! Guess our dear Naoms is going to have to pull herself together and dive in. Should be interesting to see, dontcha think? I must admit that after acting on some excellent input and advice from Miss Marauder, this chapter turned out to be one of my favourites so far. **

**Push the little button and let me know if you agree. Cheers, all.**

**Crev**


	10. Chapter 10: As the Threads Unravel

**I had an extra long weekend, so decided to get this posted a bit early.**

**Thank you to everyone who has recommended this fic. I cannot tell you enough how grateful I am to those who think well enough about it to spread the word!  
**

**The rocky ride continues, but better times are coming, I promise.**

**Chapter 10 ****–**** As the Threads Unravel**

…_**Then**_

Infinity is such a long time, isn't it? Too long, as it turned out. The magic of Emily's infinity pendant couldn't deliver on its promise, although it certainly tried. Things were better for a while, good even. But it didn't last. Life would get better for a bit, and then take another turn. It was maddening. It was disheartening. And it was breaking her.

The first hint of rougher seas came from Cook, of all people. Cook, who hadn't been seen in years, suddenly arrived on the door step of the little house, unannounced and entirely unexpected. And Naomi let him in.

Not just that, Naomi welcomed him with open arms and offered him the couch to sleep on. She did it without asking Emily, without even consulting her before saying "yes," because to Naomi that was just what friends did. And, what incensed Emily even more, she did it without even checking to make sure they weren't suddenly harbouring a fugitive again – something that they both knew could tank Naomi's law career before it even began.

Just like that, with no discussion, Naomi put at risk the very thing that Emily had been slaving so hard for, for so long, and she did it without giving a single thought to whether it was a good idea, or what the consequences might be or how Emily might feel about it. It was Cook, and in Naomi's head and heart that was all she needed to know. It never even occurred to her that Emily would think differently. And that is what hurt Emily the most; it felt so much like Naomi had chosen Cook over her, over them. Emily was livid, although she tried hard not to show it, tried to hide her wounds, not wanting Cook of all people to see her pain, and not willing, then, to share it with Naomi either.

Her fury only got stronger, though, and deeper when it turned out that Cook was indeed, technically, still on the run. When Emily pressed him on that first night it he told them that he was trying to work out a deal. He had been working as a bike courier for a few months, kipping on sofas here and there to stay a step ahead of the police. It turned out one of law offices he delivered to was a criminal law boutique. He chatted up the young (female, of course) junior solicitor in the group, and before long she had connected him to a senior solicitor who was trying to help him clear his name by brokering a deal. Cook would cop to escaping custody on the drug charges and accept an intermittent sentence where he did a few months jail time on weekends so he could keep his job. And he would claim self-defense for killing Foster, and in all likelihood would never be charged for that.

It was a somber conversation as Cook had to admit to having taken that life. He gave little detail, other than to confirm that self-defense was a pretty accurate description of events, and the women did not prod him for more. None of them wanted to dwell on what happened back then. It was still too sensitive and raw, especially for Cook. But Emily did want answers for what it all meant for them now that Cook had reappeared in their lives. Eventually, she was convinced that they were not risking charges if he stayed with them for a while, and she agreed to the proposed arrangement. Begrudgingly so, but they didn't know that.

Emily's patience with the whole thing was sorely tested, though, as Cook and Naomi seemed to regress to their College-days selves. She knew for sure that they were drinking at all hours, pretty much whenever Naomi wasn't actually in class and Cook wasn't at work, and she suspected that they were taking drugs, too. It drove her crazy that Naomi could be so immature, no matter how happy and relieved she was to have Cook back. Naomi was spending money they didn't have, wasting time she should have been studying, and wasn't pulling her weight at all around the house.

On top of that, adding a third person – any third person – to the house made it feel cramped. And Cook took up more space and air than most. He made crass, sexual jokes, as per usual, and left his belongings straggled all over the living room and bathroom. He never cleaned a single dish or cooked a single meal. It drove Emily fucking mad.

But Naomi was so happy and relieved to have him back and safe that she was more than willing to overlook his foibles. He had always been good to her, and their bond was a strong one. In the face of that, Emily did not feel that she could voice her objections. So, she stayed silent. She didn't speak of her frustrations and she didn't let her unhappiness show. Instead, she tried every day to accept it, to accept him, in their lives.

She held her tongue and kept telling herself that Cook's plea deal would be settled soon, and he would get his own place, and then she and Naomi would be able to spend a little more time together. It would be better then. They would reconnect and they'd have time to be close. That, just that, Emily was sure, would help her feel less insecure, less lonely, less lost. It had to.

So, she focused her energies on getting through her work day, and then crawled into bed each night right after dinner. It was partly to try to get the sleep she so profoundly needed, but also to minimize the aggravation that she felt every time she looked around at the mess of the house, or heard Cook and Naomi wander back in half-munted and cackling over some stupidity.

Finally, the day came when Cook packed his gear and moved into his own, tiny flat. Naomi was bored and irritable for a few days after he left, but she soon bounced back and turned her focus back to Emily. For a little while, things seemed to be getting back on track for them. Emily was still exhausted and frustrated with her jobs, but at least some of the closeness she craved with Naomi was back. She clung to it and made sure they grabbed every moment they could together. It was not perfect, not at all. But the darkness receded, and the days felt just that little bit less overwhelming. They were back on track, for a little while.

Unfortunately, as Christmas (and all the extra expenses that went with it) came closer, Emily needed to take on extra shifts at work. That meant she saw Naomi even less than usual. When December arrived, Naomi also had to focus on exams and staying at the top of her class. Naomi became stressed and short-tempered, and was so focused on her own shit that she was almost completely oblivious to Emily's struggles. She took out her nerves on her girlfriend, giving Emily grief about everything from making plans to stop at Jenna and Rob's on Christmas Eve, to buying the wrong brand of cereal. Emily tried to remember that Naomi was just worried about her exams. This happened every session, as predictable as the change of seasons. She tried not to let it bother her. But it did. More and more it did.

Christmas Eve eventually came, and they dutifully attended Jenna's dinner party, a card table extending the 6-seater to make room for James' new girlfriend and Katie's current beefcake of the week. The whole night was a train wreck from the moment they arrived, with no "Peace on Earth" anywhere to be found. Jenna began picking at Naomi as soon as she laid eyes on her, which was nothing new. But because it was Christmas Eve, the traditional Fitch Family mulled wine was flowing freely. And by the time dessert was served Naomi had drunk enough, and suffered enough, that she did not hold back, not even a little bit, the way she usually would. No, she opened up full throttle and blasted Jenna at length, pointing out every flaw in her parenting that Naomi could remember, insulting the almost inedible food that they had just eaten, and, for good measure, describing in exquisite detail exactly how and why Jenna was abjectly wrong in her evaluation of the most recent Parliamentary expense scandal. It ruined the dinner, to say the least. And it deeply angered Emily.

Before Naomi had fully finished speaking, the younger twin had grabbed her by the arm and hauled her unceremoniously onto the front stoop, slamming the door behind them.

"What the fuck is _wrong_ with you?"

"Wrong with_ me_? What about _her_?"

"Jesus, Naomi, they're my _family_. _She's _my family! Why can't you get that? I know she can be a bitch, but she's my _mom_. And I need her to be that. I need her in my life. So, could you for one minute, for one _fucking_ night, just stop having to be right all the time and just get through a fucking meal? For my sake? That's all I asked for Naomi. One fucking night and instead you do _this_! Jesus, you are un-fucking-believable you are. Do me a favour and just go, will you. Just leave so I can try to pick up the pieces of yet another of your colossal fuck ups."

Naomi left. Emily stayed. They didn't speak for two days. They even went so far as to use Gina to pass messages between them on Christmas Day until Gina told them both to grow the fuck up and stormed off to grab a pint at the local with Kieran. On the third day, with some less than gentle prodding from Gina, Naomi caved. A paper rose, hand-coloured in crayon, was sitting at Emily's place at the breakfast table when she got up. Resting against it was a sticky note that said, "I'm a pillock. And I'm sorry. Forgive me?"

And of course, Emily did. Or tried. It was almost the same thing, right? Almost.

Despite having needed a prompt from Gina, Naomi was sincere in her apology. She knew her behaviour Christmas Eve had been awful, and she did her very best to make it up to Emily. She paid more attention to the state of the house, cleaned the dishes before they piled up, folded the laundry, and cooked – well, ordered in - her share of the meals. She made a point of making romantic gestures more frequently; nothing ornate, just a few more "I love yous", and a coffee in bed from time to time - little things to show Emily how much Naomi cared. And she arranged her schedule as much as possible so that she could be with Emily when Emily had time, and energy, to enjoy the company. Those times were the best times, and they made good use of them re-familiarizing themselves with each other's bodies. They made love again, slowly, delectably, instead of grabbing fleeting moments for a quickie here and there.

It went like that, the up and downs. Things got better and then got worse and then got better again. Naomi made a conscious effort to be what Emily needed, before something would happen and they would fall off course again. The Christmas melt down was no different. It was a wake-up call, and Naomi heard the warning bell loud and clear. She was doing so well, too. They both were. Right up until she walked face first into another tidal wave without even beginning to understand the full scale of its implications.

The new school term had started, and with it a new collection of study groups. Once again, Jessica was among the members. That was not surprising; they had the same circle of friends and were in many of the same classes. But Naomi knew that Emily would not be happy about it. So, she was determined to deal with it right away and alleviate any concerns Emily might have. The night the groups were finalized, Naomi was waiting for Emily with her favourite take-away when Emily got home from work after serving a banquet at the hotel. They shared a quiet meal and a glass of wine together, enjoying each other's company and the spicy food. Finally, after clearing the cartons and cutlery, Naomi broached the sensitive subject.

"So, Ems, I got my study groups sorted today."

"Oh? That's good, Naoms. How are they shaping up? Do you have a sense yet?"

"Good. Yeah. Really good. But here's the thing… I don't want you to be surprised by this, so, um… Jessica is in one of them."

Emily didn't say a word, just stared at Naomi in disbelief for a moment and then shook her head and stood up to head towards the bathroom. Naomi followed, and reached out to lightly grab hold of Emily's hand, gently turning her lover to face her. She placed her hands delicately on each side of Emily's face, leaning down face-to-face to convey her sincerity.

"You have nothing to worry about, Emily. I promise you. The only person I want to be with, the only person I care about, is you. You can trust me, Em. You have to trust me, okay? Please."

Emily looked up at her lover. Her face revealed nothing of the turmoil that she was feeling as her demons and darkness strengthened. It wasn't about trust. It was about Emily having to put up with one more goddam thing she didn't want. It was about her wishes not counting, ever. It was about having no choice.

"I trust you, Naomi. Don't worry about it. It's fine."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It's all good."

Emily gave Naomi's hand a reassuring squeeze before turning away and heading towards the bathroom. Only when she was securely behind the closed door and under the muffling cover of a hot shower did she let herself cry. She knew that Jessica was no threat to her. She did. But fucking hell when was it going to be her turn to get things her way. Why should she have to accept that bitch in Naomi's life when it was so fucking obvious that she would steal Naomi if she could? Why couldn't Naomi just refuse to hang around her?

Emily dried her tears as she dried the rest of her body, and put on her best game face before heading to join Naomi in the bedroom. Naomi didn't need to know how much this bothered Emily. It couldn't be helped now anyway. What was done, was done. So it became just one more thing that Emily tucked away; one more thing she tried, unsuccessfully, to ignore as it grated on her. One more thing that dragged her further and further down into the shadows.

The next morning, she called Katie, hoping against hope that talking with her twin might help. She quickly brought Katie up to speed on the new events, and how hard Emily was finding it to carry on. Katie listened, patiently for her, before telling Emily that she had to let it go. She had to trust Naomi and to believe that it would all get easier eventually.

"It's just a matter of time until Campbell graduates, right Em? And then it will be your turn. You'll see. It'll be just like Naomi said."

Hearing the same old platitudes again triggered something in Emily.

"What if I don't want to wait, Katie? What then? What if I want my turn now? God, you don't understand. I'm so tired of spending every moment doing what I have to do instead of what I want to do. I'm so tired of never having _anything_ of my own. I'm just… I'm so just tired of it, Katie. Of all of it."

Katie didn't know what to say to that. She didn't know what she could do to help her sister. She didn't really understand what was so awful about Emily's life, truth be told. She thought maybe a little tough love might be in order.

"This is the deal you made, Em. It's what you wanted. Your bloody dream come true, isn't it. So what if it isn't easy? No one said life was going to be all fucking butterflies and ice cream, did they? You just… you have to focus on the positive, right? I mean, seriously, you're with the love of your life, living in a house you adore and tomorrow will be better. It will, Emily. It will be better. "

"Promise?" Katie could hardly hear her sister's question, so softly was it uttered.

"Yeah, Emily. I promise."

Really, what else could Katie say?

So, once again, Emily swept her feelings under the rug and tried to ignore her misgivings and the growing ache in her chest. She forced them down, deep down, and tried not to think about them, believing that she must be being unreasonable and over sensitive. If she didn't think about them, they didn't exist. Right? So, she ignored them. She ignored them and she tried instead to accept the love that Naomi was offering. She tried to appreciate the efforts Naomi made every day (or almost every day). She tried.

But, of course, inevitably, it all kept piling up, day by day, getting more and more difficult to discount no matter what she did and no matter what Naomi did. Emily hid her turmoil well by that point, though. She had become an expert at it. She presented a brave front to everyone, including Naomi, as though everything was fine, just fine. But there was absolutely no doubt that she was not fine at all. She was caught in a growing web of sadness that she couldn't truly understand let alone cope with. She was sinking farther into darkness and it was getting harder and harder to find the light in anything anymore.

She was starved for something that fed her heart and passion and interest and curiosity, and nothing about her current life, with exception of Naomi, gave Emily any of that. She was losing herself day by day into a void of meaningless bits and pieces, fragments of an uninspiring life. She wanted to go chase her passion, to better herself and build her future. Instead, she was fading away. And all the while her lover left her behind to go study and play with her school friends (including bloody fucking Jessica), friends who were older and smarter than Emily, and who challenged Naomi in ways that Emily was sure she never could. Friends who actually understood and enjoyed law (bloody freaks). Friends who understood Naomi in ways Emily was starting to believe she just didn't anymore.

Emily wanted the passion back. She wanted her dream. She wanted something that she could actually look forward to doing, something in the radio world she had come to love so much, instead of something she had to do because the bills had to be paid. But that would mean leaving London. The only opportunities she had seen in weeks for someone with her skill level were outside the capital city. And she couldn't leave Naomi, could she. So, instead of chasing her dreams Emily kept trudging where she was, trying to ignore what she wanted for a little while longer, trying to believe that the "soon" Naomi promised was good enough. It worked, sort of, for a while. But not for long. And despite it all, Emily still couldn't seem to find the words to talk to Naomi about how unhappy she was.

Emily's life was not what she imagined when she dreamt of Naomi from afar all those years ago. It was not what she imagined when she took Naomi back after her amazing, grand declaration in the shed. It was not even what she imagined while they were holding hands through the cat flap.

It was not what she imagined at all, or what she needed.

She needed to feel connected again, especially to Naomi. She needed something, anything, that would make her want to get out of bed in the morning, that would feed her spirit and give her something to strive for. She needed to be able to trust and to believe and to hope. She needed Naomi to notice – really notice - that she was unhappy and disheartened and slipping away.

She needed a lot. And she didn't get it. She didn't get any of it at all.

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**.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.**

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**Well. Yeah. Sorry about that. Kind of hit the red-zone on the angst-o-metre on that one. But Jesus, that feeling that you will never be happy again is such a bastard to deal with and it can be so incredibly hard to shake. If you've been through it, you know what I mean. I hope that I have managed to do it justice here. **

**BTW - Just so you all know, I am a lawyer myself so don't razz me for the "freaks" comment! Just having a little fun at my own expense.**

**I'd love to know what you think. Review button is below.**


	11. Chapter 11: Coming Around Again

**naomilyfan - I love your reviews, especially what you wrote about Chapter 10. Totally made my day. It's killing me that I can't write back to thank you because you are a guest. If you sign in, I will. Promise! And "Guest" - you, too! Thank you for the kind words.**

**So, here we go. Have to admit, these next two chapters have me sweating bullets. I really hope they meet expectations. Hold on tight!**

**Still not mine. But I do enjoy playing with them!**

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**Chapter 11 ****–**** Coming Around Again**

…_**Now**_

The twins are having their weekly Happy Hour rendezvous at Wetherspoons. The chain pub isn't really Emily's style, but Katie is dead in love with their double shot Blue Lagoons and is working her way steadily through a pitcher of the potent cocktail.

Emily is just wrapping up regaling Katie with the latest idiotic programming decision her boss has made when Katie has finally swallowed enough liquid courage to break the news. She takes a deep breath and cuts Emily off mid-word.

"Naomi knows you're in London, Emily. She um… she knows about your show, too."

Katie will swear later, when she tells the story to Effy, that the temperature in the room dropped a full 10 degrees at that moment, so chilling is the look that Emily gives her. It's a classic "if looks could kill" moment and Katie can't hold Emily's gaze for the first time in a very, very long time.

"Fucking Effy."

It's not a question. Emily knows damn well that if the secret is out it is likely to be Effy who is responsible and the anger and disdain she feels towards Katie's roommate in this moment is palpable.

"Yeah. But for what it's worth, Em, it was an accident."

Emily rolls her eyes and pushes back from the table in aggravation at her sister's seemingly endless willingness to make excuses for Effy.

"Oh, that must be a hell of a story, Katie. Do tell. Taken over by aliens, was she? Tortured? Hypnotized? Come on then, tell me, Katie, how exactly did she manage to _accidentally_ tell her all about me when she knew full fucking well I didn't want her to know? Hmm? Bloody hard to imagine, isn't it?"

"Seriously, Emily. It just slipped out. She didn't mean it and she feels well horrible about it. But…"

"But what, Katie? But fucking what? I _told_ you this would happen when Effy insisted on hanging out with her!"

Katie looks as meek as she is capable of looking as she tries to figure out how to ease past the implications of Effy's mistake and open up the subject of what needs to happen next. She knows full well that this is not going to go well. But, she is nothing if not persistent once she makes up her mind about something, so she braces herself for the backlash and plunges ahead regardless.

"I know, Emily. I know. But the thing is…,"

"What, Katie? What now? Jesus! Oh, god, what if she's listening to the show? Oh fucking hell, how am I going to be able to go back on the air if I have to wonder if she could be listening? Did you ever fucking think about that, Katie?"

Katie can see the panic setting in, and knows she does not have long to make this right, to convince Emily to play along. So, she lowers her voice, trying for calming, and quietly drops her next bit of news while she can, knowing just how likely it is to explode in her face.

"She wants to see you, Em."

If Katie had suddenly grown a second head Emily could not have been more taken aback. She flops back in her seat, a look of incredulity on her face, and tries to make sense of what she has just heard.

"What…?"

"Yeah. Just to talk, nothing more. That's all."

Emily's reaction is physical, visceral, her whole body shaking out the negative response even before the word leaves her mouth.

"No."

"Emily…"

"No. Katie. Absolutely not!"

Katie doesn't appreciate being snarled at no matter how upset Emily might be or with how much cause, and her hackles rise just a bit in response.

"Why the fuck not, then?"

Emily can't quite believe that they are having this conversation. If it was Effy pushing her like this she might understand it. But for Katie to be doing it… it is bizarre enough to keep Emily from storming out.

"Have you gone mad? What on earth would possess you to think that I would agree to that? You know better, Katie! You know... Fucking hell, what are you thinking? I mean, even if I did suddenly lose my tiny fucking mind and agree to this, what could I possibly say to her? Eh, Katie? What could I possibly tell her that wouldn't just make everything a million bloody times worse? How could I possibly explain?"

Katie holds her tongue for a moment, considering Emily's words, before leaning back and crossing her arms with deliberation.

"You could start with the truth."

Emily rolls her eyes at that, slapping her right hand on the table hard as she does.

"Oh for fuck's sake Katie. Have you forgotten everything that happened? She's never going to be able to forgive me, is she? No, she's not. There's no fucking way, so there's no bloody point. I couldn't... It wouldn't be fair to her to even ask, and you know it. So, what good can possibly come out of putting her through that? Of putting _me_ through that?"

They sit there, Emily staring at the wall and Katie staring at Emily. Emily is furious at being put in this situation, at having to actually think about the possibility at all, let alone turn away from it, and she is having a hard time keeping from lashing out. Still, Katie can sense it. She's had a lot of experience with that over the years.

"You still care about her."

"Really, Katie? Well thanks for filling me in on that, I hadn't noticed."

Emily's sarcasm is bitter and biting and the glare she gifts Katie with is cutting.

"Oy. Stop that shit, Emily. I'll not have it. I'm on your side, if you remember."

"Then act like it, Katie. _Please_."

The strain is showing now on Emily's haunted face. And it brings out every ounce of gentleness that Katie can muster. She contemplates, just briefly, how a few years ago she would have just yelled at Emily and forced her to do what she wanted. How things have changed between them. How _they_ have changed. Katie knows that what Emily needs now is not bullying, it's compassion. And perhaps a little tough love.

"I am, Emily. Don't you see? I am. She wants to see you. After all this time, she still wants to see you. Now, maybe it's to rip you a new one or to scream at you for fucking up her life. Or maybe it's just to knock you well silly, though I don't think so. But what if it's not about that? What if she really just wants to talk, Emily, so sort things out? May even to reconnect a bit. Can you really walk away from that? And even if you could, can you honestly say you don't think she deserves to know what really happened?"

"Yes. I can. And I will. It's over and done with, Katie. And she's..." Emily stumbles on her words, catching herself when she hears the tremble in her voice. "She's better off with me well out of her life."

Katie flounders at that, not sure what to say next to try to convince her sister to take this chance.

"Why are you doing this, Ems? I mean, please tell me you don't really believe what you're saying, yeah?"

Emily chokes back a sob that is threatening to break free and wipes her eyes and nose on her sleeves before answering.

"She deserves better than me, Katie. So much better. I _hurt_ her. So badly. Don't you get that? She… fuck. She deserves … She deserves better."

Katie reaches across to grasp her sister's hand, trying to send all the comfort she can through their joined fingers as the penny drops and she begins to understand just how serious her sister is. She finds herself fighting back her own tears in response to the devastation and sorrow in Emily's voice.

"Maybe you should let her decide that, Em. I mean, she hurt you, too, right? And you took her back. Maybe she should get the same choice. And Jesus, we're not even talking about that. We're just talking about _talking_."

Emily shakes her head, forcing herself to swallow the old, familiar emotions that threaten to drown her once again. She can't do this. She won't. She needs to protect herself and she needs to protect Naomi. And it is hard enough to find the resolve to do that without Katie trying to shove them together.

"I can't go through that again, Katie. And I can't risk putting her through that again. Jesus, Katie, You can't... Don't ask me to do that. I just can't."

She pulls her hand away from her sister and grabs her bag before rushing out of the pub with Katie's worried calls ringing in her ears.

Katie watches her go, her concern warring with her frustration. She knew it wasn't going to be easy to convince Emily to try this. Emily has always been the last person to cut herself some slack. Her hurt and the shame over Naomi go so bloody deep, and she is so fucking determined not to forgive herself, not to trust herself. It drives Katie crazy that she has never been able to help Emily truly get past what happened. It seems as though Naomi really is their last hope. Katie still isn't sure it is the right way to go, isn't sure at all that she can count on Campbell not to fuck it up even worse. But it is the only way left.

Katie flags down the waiter - thrown enough by her interaction with Emily that she does not even notice how cute he is - and orders another pitcher of Blue Lagoon. They're going to have to use Effie's "sneak attack" plan after all. And Katie hopes with all her might that it will work. Because one thing she does know for sure - if it doesn't, then Emily is never going to forgive any of them either.

.

******~ o0o ~**

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Naomi is leaving the Clarkson building after a ridiculously long, tiring day at work when she hears her name being called. She turns to see Effy straightening up from where she had been leaning against a lamp-post.

"Come on, then."

Effy starts walking up the pavement without waiting to see if Naomi will follow, which irks Naomi enough to contemplate ignoring her and heading home. But, her curiosity is tweaked just enough to fall in line.

They walk in silence for a few blocks, before Effy turns into a little bistro with a small bar and lounge attached. They grab seats in the lounge, and have barely managed to doff their coats when the waitress arrives. Effy speaks up, ordering a couple of Pimm's No. 1, straight up. Naomi quirks an eyebrow at the presumption, but stays quiet. This is Effy's show and Naomi is willing to let it play out.

Silence descends again between them as they wait for the drinks to arrive, the only motion being the tap, tap, tap of Naomi's fingers marking cadence on the table top.

Effy's thanks the waitress when she delivers the drinks, and takes a long, appreciative sip. Naomi watches her, twirling the cool glass between her fingertips as she waits for Effy to get on with whatever it is that this little gathering is all about.

"So, Katie told Emily that you want to see her."

Naomi figured it had to be something like that, given how Effy was acting. But it is still disconcerting to see just how cautiously Effy seems to be approaching the subject.

"Okaaay… How did that go, then?"

"Not well."

"Oh."

It's not really a question, and not really a statement, with Naomi not entirely sure she wants to know just how badly Emily reacted. Just hearing "not well" has hit her with a tangible pain in her gut and she is finding it a little harder to breathe.

"Not surprising really, Nai. I'd be fucking terrified to meet you if I was in her shoes."

"What? Why the fuck, Effy?"

"Seriously, Naomi?"

The look Effy gives Naomi suggests the latter has just misplaced several key IQ points. Naomi may be emotionally slow sometimes, but she is bright as hell, so it doesn't take her long to think through what it might be like for Emily to have to face her, and to face the cruelty of that last night. Yeah, that would be daunting as hell alright, even if she didn't care at all for Naomi's feelings any more.

"Right. Dumb question I guess."

There is another lull as they both contemplate the implications of the new development, before Naomi finally fortifies herself with gulp of her Pimm's and speaks up.

"So, what now?"

Effy blinks slowly, considering her response.

"Well, I suppose you can give up. Or you can go ahead with the plan. I'd go ahead with the plan, myself. I mean, it's not like we expected her to be thrilled to see you right off, did we?"

"Right. Yeah. Really though, I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Ef. I mean, if she… if Emily isn't interested, maybe I should leave it alone."

The inclination to take the escape route that has just landed in her lap is strong. Naomi can almost sense the relief that, in one sense, dropping the whole idea of seeing Emily again would bring her. But Effy isn't having it. Her tone is sharp, no nonsense when she speaks, so much so that it instantly grabs Naomi's full attention.

"Look, Naomi, you need to stop being daft about this. First of all, if you were able to leave it alone you never would have agreed to try to see her in the first place. You _want_ this. _You_ do. So stop fucking waffling about. Second, whether she knows you want to see her or not, whether she wants to see you or not, the end result is the same. You'll find her and she'll be pissed about it and she'll either get over it and talk to you or she won't. Nothing at all has changed about that. So for fuck's sake don't bail on me. Because Emily's not speaking to Katie right now because of this, which means Katie's not speaking to me. We're way out on limb for you here, Nai, the both of us. So do me a favour and buck the fuck up, alright? Just stick to the plan and get it done."

Naomi sits unmoving, a little taken aback as she attempts to digest one of the longest diatribes that she has ever heard from the other woman. It makes sense, what Effy says, sort of. She never really expected Emily to be all warm fuzzies and baby kittens when she shows up in front of her, so this new wrinkle doesn't really change much in that respect. Still, it is more than unsettling to hear for certain that Emily isn't okay with Naomi knowing that she's back. It hurts, in ways Naomi really wasn't prepared for. And the self-doubt it engenders in her is quite real.

"Listen, Naomi. I know this isn't exactly ideal. But I need you to trust me on this. Talking to Emily is the best thing you can do. For both of you. So, just... don't give up, alright?"

"I'll think about it, Effy. That's the best I can give you right now."

"Alright. I'll take that. Look, I've got to go. I've got major sucking up to do with Katie tonight. I just wanted you to know the news. I'll see you later, alright. And seriously, don't bottle it. I'm right about this."

Effy slips her way out of the lounge with her usual grace, while Naomi slumps into her chair, mulling over the new situation. Effy's is right about one thing. It's not surprising that Emily isn't doing the happy dance over the idea that Naomi knows she's back. But that doesn't have to mean that there's no chance at all that they can get past all that shit and manage to have a civil conversation. And as Naomi thinks through the options it occurs to her that she still has all the same questions that she had yesterday, and the day before. She still has all the same things that she wants to say and that she hopes to hear. All the reasons that she wanted to talk to Emily in the first place are just as strong now as they were before Effy's little revelation. And the more she thinks about it, the more she starts to feel that, frankly, if Emily isn't happy about talking to her that's too damn bad. As much as Naomi does not want to upset her if that can be avoided, Emily owes her this one, Naomi thinks. After everything that Naomi went through, fuck - is _still_ going through - Emily owes her at least the courtesy of some answers whether she's comfortable with that idea or not.

So, Naomi decides, it's full speed ahead with the plan. She's going to be smart about it and to try not to spook Emily along the way. But she is absolutely going to fight for what she wants and needs. She decides that she is going to place herself in Emily's sphere whenever and wherever she can and hope to run into her sooner rather than later. And if she doesn't find her the first time, then she'll just have to keep trying.

And that is why the following day finds Naomi sitting on a park bench near the footpath that Emily regularly jogs along. She arrived just after work, having taken a cab down in order to get there as early as possible. Effy said that Emily usually jogs this park first thing in what is her morning, before she gets ready to head to the station. Naomi is nervous and has been all day. She is trying (without even the slightest success) to read while she waits with bated breath and a whole flock of butterflies in her belly to catch her first glimpse in years of her lost love. She doesn't know what to expect, really. All day she has been imagining everything from a relatively positive reunion to a screaming match. At this point, her nerves are turning into anxiety and she is starting to worry that she might lose control over it. She hasn't had a panic attack since the night she met Effy, but the stress of this reunion might just trigger it again.

Naomi focusses on her breathing, deep in and outs to try to calm herself down. She tries to focus on something - counting pebbles in the pathway at her feet - to slow her thoughts. She almost leaves two or three times when the nerves overtake her. But she needs this. So she stays. She stays and she waits and she tries to hold herself together.

She is just starting to think that Emily isn't coming (she's not sure if she is relieved by that or not) when she hears the soft slap of sneakers on the rock path, and there she is.

Emily.

Oh sweet Jesus it's her.

It is a shock to see her, even though it is expected. She looks so different. The red hair is gone, dark brown in its place, pulled back into a messy ponytail. Her arms and legs swing loosely as she runs, quite obviously something she does a lot. She is moving easily to the beat of her headphones, completely wrapped up in her own little world. She is sweating and messy, in long pants, hoodie and fingerless gloves. She is thin, too thin almost, her face looking more gaunt than it used to, and older, too, and tired. But she is still absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful in the way that only Emily Fitch has ever been.

Naomi's book drops unnoticed from her unmindful fingers to the bench beside her as she stands, cautiously, hesitatingly, waiting for Emily to detect her. She can tell the moment it happens. She can see Emily's eyes widen in surprise and her chest lurch with a gasp. Her feet come to a staggered halt about 10 metres away where Emily stops dead in her tracks and stares at Naomi, just stares, mesmerized like a frightened rabbit.

Time stops for Naomi as they stare across the distance at each other. The wind rustles through the leaves in the trees, the birds sing. There is even a frog chirping its throaty song somewhere along the bank of the nearby stream. But Naomi doesn't hear any of that. She doesn't see the sky or the clouds or the other people making their ways through the park. She doesn't hear the dogs bark or the children laugh. She sees nothing, and hears nothing, except Emily. It is overwhelming to see her again, even though she has been waiting, even though she has been expecting her. The reality is so much more than the idea, than the anticipation. She is there. Right there. The tidal of wave of memories and feelings that hits Naomi is immense, and it is all that she can do to cling to the here and now. She is suddenly angry and sad and hopeful all at once. She could not say for certain whether she most wants to hug Emily and never let her go or scream at her for all the pain she caused and never let her near again, but she knows without question that she has missed her. She has missed her and is so very, deeply glad to see her face again.

Naomi sees Emily's eyes widen, as the stunned twin begins to grasp the truth of what is happening, of who she is seeing, and of the fact that this is real. Naomi watches as fear, anger, and doubt all slip across Emily's face in turn, before a look of shock and then panic settles in. Naomi notices the beads of sweat dripping down her ex's neck in slow motion, and notes as Emily's chest continues to heave in a desperate search for air. She is painfully aware of each muscle that flickers and twitches in the tiny woman, this woman she used to know so well, so intimately. She observes, enthralled, uncertain, as Emily teeters wildly and overtly between fight and flight.

In contrast to Emily's gasps for air, Naomi's breathing has stopped almost altogether as she waits, the oxygen sucked away by the sight before her. Their eyes lock, finally, for the first time in so many years, and Naomi can't help but respond. Her heart pounds recklessly and her legs muscles tense, gathering in preparation to move her forward, towards Emily, without any conscious thought on her part. The pull towards the younger woman is impossible to resist even after all this time, even after everything that happened.

"Emily…"

It is uttered like a prayer or a benediction. It is a plea and an invitation and an offering all at once. It is only one word, but it carries the weight of all their years, both together and apart, of all their faith and all their doubts. And under it all, lying just beneath the surface but oh-so-clear in this moment, it carries the secret, sacred hope that Naomi has held deep in the most guarded recesses of her heart.

Naomi takes one step forward, finally, unable to resist, towards where Emily stands. Just one. But that is all it takes to shatter the moment and shock Emily into action.

Emily moves, her hands trembling as they reach out as though to stop Naomi from coming closer, the urge for flight taking over completely. Her head swings from side to side, eyes darting frantically in search of escape. Then she turns on a dime, a full 180 degrees, and runs - literally runs - as fast as her legs will carry her, back the way she came, away from Naomi and all that she represents, away from all the feelings that have come crashing back. She has only one thought, one imperative, and it is to get away, as far and as fast as possible.

Naomi tries to follow her, she tries to keep up. But she can't, not in the work heels that she is still wearing. In a matter of seconds, Emily is gone from sight and Naomi is yelling at the skies in her frustration.

"Fucking FUCK!"

She cannot believe that she let Emily get away. She should have know better. She should have know that Emily would run. Of fucking _course_ she would run. The shock alone would be enough to ensure that.

But now that Naomi's seen her she knows that she can't stop chasing her. Naomi wasn't 100% certain before seeing her. She wasn't wholly committed to the thought of renewed contact, both repelled and attracted in equal measure by the idea.

But now… Now, she knows that she has to see this through. She needs to, more than anything else, she needs to. She has seen Emily in the flesh once more, has seen her in all her captivating glory, and she will not fool herself any longer. There is nothing on earth she wants more than to see her again. And more than that, she knows that she saw something in Emily's eyes when they locked with her own, something true, something real. She saw a spark of old Emily, of how old Emily used to look at her, before this new Emily could hide it. She saw the spark and she felt the connection that went with it before Emily panicked and ran. And that one tiny moment is enough, for now, to convince her that she has to try again to find her.

She will find her and she will speak to her, and then Emily is bloody well going to tell her what the fuck happened those years ago. Because based on what Naomi is sure in her very bones that she just saw in Emily's eyes, however fleetingly, however brief, it makes even less sense to her now that they ever fell apart. Maybe she is misreading it. Maybe she is seeing what she wants to see. But she doesn't think so. And that little spark of hope is enough. Not hope for a reunion. Certainly not for reconciliation. But maybe for a chance to put the past to rest, for both of them.

She starts a vigil, then, in earnest. She spends every spare moment hanging out at the park, alert, on guard, waiting for Emily to run past. Naomi is smart enough to know that Emily won't likely take the same path where she was surprised the first time, so Naomi finds other routes to watch and other benches to sit on and she waits. It takes six days, six days of rain and cold and fog and sun, before they meet again. This time when Emily spots Naomi she is less surprised and less unprepared, but a whole lot more pissed off. She stops as soon as she lays eyes on Naomi moving into the pathway, making sure to keep as much distance between them as possible. She cannot let Naomi know how good it feels to see her again, or how much it tears her heart at the same time. She cannot let her know how much she would give to just walk up and embrace her once more. She has to be strong. She has to keep her distance. So, instead she takes the moment to glare across the steps between them, trying hard to communicate displeasure and only that, before turning and very deliberately walking the other way, her hand raised in the universal and entirely unmistakable direction for Naomi not to follow. Her heart races with the fear that Naomi will not accede to her request, and she is ready to run if that occurs. But she hopes she doesn't need to because the pressure on her chest from holding back yet more tears is making it so fucking hard to breath that she's not sure she could run if she had to.

Naomi does let her go. It goes against every instinct that she has and takes every ounce of will power that she can gather. It shatters her in ways that she had not quite expected to feel and it pisses her off more than she actually thought possible. She almost decides to chase Emily anyway after that brazen little fuck off of a dismissal. But she'd promised. She'd promised Effy (and by extension Katie) that if Emily wanted to leave she would let her. So she does. But she's not done trying. She's not nearly done. Not yet. Not until she gets the answers that she is looking for.

After a few more days it becomes clear that Emily is not going to return to the park any time soon, which is not really surprising. So, Naomi begins staking out other spots, never approaching when they meet, just hovering at a distance, letting Emily see her, letting Emily know that she is not going to disappear, that eventually Emily will have to give in. Emily can try to run, but Naomi will always find her.

The first time is at the coffee shop that Emily frequents. Emily leaves, cursing, before even crossing the threshold once she sees Naomi waiting there through the window. Effy reports back after that one that Emily had arrived at their apartment in a rage, berating her and Katie up and down for spilling her secrets. The park was bad enough, but messing with her coffee shop is apparently beyond the pale. Effy laughs as she tells the tale, but it is obvious that the tension with Emily is wearing on her and Katie. Even so, she encourages Naomi to keep on.

"She's almost hooked, Naomi. You've got her almost wanting to end the chase, even if it's just so she doesn't have to wonder where you'll pop up next. Keep it up."

So, Naomi does. Every moment that she can manage is spent placing herself deliberately in Emily's way, exposing Emily to her presence bit by bit in a strange kind of aversion therapy. Sometimes, most times actually, she waits in vain as Emily mixes up her routes and schedules to try to avoid her. Sometimes, though, they catch sight of each other at a distance - by the dry cleaners, in the vegetable aisle, at the chemists - before Emily changes direction and leaves Naomi behind. Although they are painful, and ridiculously frustrating, Naomi has started living for those moments, for these short glimpses of the tiny twin.

Finally, when her patience is almost exhausted and she is in real danger of losing her temper and breaking all the rules (Katie be damned), Naomi manages to corner Emily, almost literally, in the mystery section of a little second-hand book store. It is the last straw for Emily, having this sanctuary of sanctuaries invaded in this way, after days and days of feeling hunted. Her ability to cope with these constant sightings is at an end. She mutters a particularly impressive stream of swear words under her breath and then bites out, "Follow me" at a surprised and suddenly very nervous Naomi.

As soon as they have cleared the door onto the pavement, Emily reels back around to face Naomi and barks through gritted teeth, "What do you want from me?"

Naomi is taken aback by vehemence of the words and the tone, but now that she has this chance she is determined to push ahead and to make it count. Despite herself, she returns the attitude pound for pound before she can stop herself.

"I want to talk. I think you owe me at least that much, Emily. Don't you?"

"Talk about what, for God's sake?"

Emily is pacing back and forth, wholly unable to stand still in this face of this confrontation, this interaction that she has tried to hard to avoid and that has her so thoroughly rattled.

Naomi takes a deep breath, trying to ratchet down the anger that Emily is inciting. She knows that she has to stay calm if this is going to have any possibility of working.

"You. What happened. Why. How you are doing."

Emily deflates just a fraction, and her pacing slows at the sudden softness of Naomi's voice, and the last question suggesting Naomi actually cares about her, here and now. But she won't let herself give in. She needs to protect them both from that.

"There's no point. It's been years, Naomi. There's no fucking point any more. It won't change anything."

"It might."

"It won't." Emily's frustration is growing as she starts to realize that Naomi is not going to let this go.

"It _might._"

"Fine then. Whatever. I'm not interested. Is that what you need to hear?" Emily's eyes are blazing as she speaks, her desperation to end this conversation bleeding through.

"Why not?" Naomi knows that she needs to call Emily's bluff, and she does, hoping against hope that it really is a bluff.

"Because I've moved on, Naomi. And so should you."

Emily's voice is cold, hard, and her words hurt. They cut deep under Naomi's skin, hitting all the soft spots that she has been trying not to feel. She doesn't quite believe them, though. Her bullshit meter is flaring wildly, and she is almost certain that this is Emily's version of a caged cat lashing out. She decides not to push it. She doesn't want Emily to run again. Not so soon.

"Okay. Fine. But don't you think we should at least try to get to the point where we don't cringe when we cross paths…"

Emily loses it at that, cutting Naomi off and throwing her hands in the air in complete frustration.

"For fuck's sake, Naomi. I managed to not cross your path just fucking _fine_ until you started stalking me, didn't I? We won't need to worry about crossing paths if you'll stop fucking following me! Why can't you get that through your head? Jesus Christ. Why do you even care? I mean, you must hate me, so what the hell is this even about? Is it payback you want or something?"

"I don't want payback, Emily. And I don't hate you. I don't. I wanted to, I'll admit, for a while. Would have been a lot easier, if I could've actually. But I didn't. I don't."

Emily is thrown by all parts of that little speech, but especially the kindness that seeps through Naomi's words. She shouldn't be kind. Emily doesn't deserve kindness. Not from her.

"Yeah, well, you don't know me anymore. I'm not who I used to be."

There is bitterness in Emily's voice, and what seems to Naomi to sound a lot like regret. Naomi's response is immediate, and soft, as she tries to bridge the gap between them.

"I think perhaps you haven't changed so very much at all, Em. Not really."

Emily can feel herself starting to buckle, and she knows she needs to escape, and fast, or she is bound to do something stupid, she is bound to take the comfort that Naomi offers.

"How can I make you leave me alone, Naomi?"

Naomi pauses at that, frightened by the import of Emily's words. Her eyes drop to her feet as she tries to think how best to answer. She knows how much is riding on this, and she decides to take a calculated risk. She flicks her eyes back to catch Emily's, knowing that she needs to make Emily see her, really see _her_, if this is going to work. Their eyes lock, for only the second time in so many years, and Naomi dives in.

"Just ask. If that's really what you want, deep down, Emily, then just ask. And I'll do it. I'll be disappointed. Really fucking disappointed to be honest. But I'll do it if that's what you really want."

Emily tries to mask her surprise at what she hears. This isn't the way the Naomi she remembers would respond. A brief flicker of curiosity crosses her face as she tries to understand what Naomi is trying to achieve, and Naomi has a split second of hope when she sees it. But then the shutter falls again, and Emily's eyes turn flat and hard. It is breaking her heart, but she knows it is what is best for Naomi, and so she finds the strength to end this dangerous game they have been playing.

"I'm asking then. I want you to leave me alone."

Naomi can't contain the gasp that escapes her. She had hoped for so much more. She runs through her options quickly, with the sharp assessment of the lawyer that she is. They are getting nowhere. And so she decides to let this go, for now, only for now.

"Okay. Alright, Emily. I'll let you go. But we need to talk about this. So, when you're ready to do that, just let me know. Effy knows where to find me."

Emily turns and starts to move away. Before she can take more than three or four steps, Naomi takes one last shot. She cannot bear to just let her walk away, not again. So she calls after her, her voice heavy and rough.

"It's your turn, Emily. It's your turn to be brave."

It's deliberate and it's calculated and it's reckless as hell. But she is out of ideas and not at all sure that there is any other way to make Emily come around.

Emily freezes at the words, before turning back, the anguish that they have caused painted clearly across her face. She pleads to Naomi, to her tormentor, her voice cracking on every word.

"What do you _want_ from me."

"To talk. Just that. I just want to talk, Emily."

Emily is beset with memories as she looks into the bluest eyes that she has ever known: of the lake, of all that followed, of all that she lost including herself. It all rushes through her in an instant and rattles every ounce of control to which she had been clinging. It is too much. It hurts too much.

"Fuck you to hell for that, Naomi. Just… leave me alone. _Please_. You have to leave me alone!"

Emily turns to stumble away as jagged sobs echo in her wake. Naomi stands there stunned, numb, watching the love of her life disappear from view. Again.

Just like the last time.

Except that this time… this time there can be no doubt that Emily still cares. No one reacts like that, no one falls apart like that if they don't. Naomi doesn't begin to know why Emily is running, but she does know what it means.

Emily still cares, and Naomi's smile when that thought breaks through could light up the City.

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******~ o0o ~**

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**Is that a glimmer of hope I see? Imagine that. And it only took 11 chapters! (Don't get too comfortable quite yet, though. The next chapter is a bit of a doozie. Fair warning.)**

**So, let me know what you think. The little button is just... down... there. :)**


	12. Chapter 12: A Million Jagged Pieces

**I was completely overwhelmed by your response to the last chapter. I cannot thank you enough for the amazing support and encouragement you have shown me. I loved the reviews - more than I have ever received for a single chapter before - and the PMs back and forth. It is really humbling that you care enough to spend the time to tell me your thoughts, and I appreciate it more than I can say. It is amazing as well to see the follows and favourites and views. Thank you all for taking the time to share this story with me.  
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**Right, enough of that. Here we go. Hang on tight.  
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**I don't own Skins. But oh how I love these characters!**

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**Chapter 12 ****–**** A Million Jagged Pieces  
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…_**Then**_

It was a Tuesday. Just an ordinary, boring Tuesday like any other ordinary, boring Tuesday. The sun had risen and set right on time. The early Spring air was cool and damp as was to be expected. The crowds on the tube were no more or less cranky than usual. It was just another day, offering up no omens or auguries of bad tidings, no inkling at all of what was to come. Just an ordinary Tuesday. Until it wasn't.

Emily had arrived home after a 12-hour work day to discover that Naomi was nowhere to be found despite the fact that they had made plans that morning to meet for a late supper. On top of that, the breakfast dishes weren't done and the dust bin was still overflowing, both of which irritated Emily no end. There was no hint of the late tea that Naomi was to have cooked for them either. And on top of the day that Emily had had - a day that had started with her getting nipped by a teacup-fucking-cockapoo of a shit-poor excuse for a dog, and ended with her spilling béarnaise sauce all down the front of her shirt when some posh wanker decided to lurch out of his banquet seat just as she was serving the mains… Well, on top of a day like that, these little, seemingly insignificant irritants were enough to drive Emily right up to and over the fucking edge. She was pissed, seriously bloody pissed, her last nerve having been stomped well beyond recognition.

The world, it seemed, was determined to make it difficult for Emily to keep hanging on. Bit by bit, moment by moment, the annoying bumps and knocks of daily life kept piercing the idyllic bubble of the little house, making it so much harder for Emily to cope, whether with the big things or the small. Without her really even noticing it, her reserves had been worn down over the months by the constant, never-ending daily grind and disappointment and melancholy. They were crushing her. Underneath Emily's "everything is fine" smoke screen she was drowning, absolutely fucking _drowning_ in it.

There was no official diagnosis to explain what she was feeling, not then, although there probably should have been. There was no deep understanding or insight into her experiences to help her keep perspective. There was just day after day of feeling wrong, of feeling off, of feeling angry and helpless and hopeless and empty and so very, very sad.

That feeling only grew as she moved through the empty house, stripping off her soiled work shirt and crawling into a hot shower in search of some comfort, however minute. Her brain kept turning no matter how long she stood under the pulsing stream. Each new aggravation and disappointment added up and chafed on Emily as she remembered it. Cumulatively they grew in stature, well beyond what they deserved, molehills quickly becoming mountains and chipping away at what happiness she could still feel piece by little piece, until there was very little left for her to hold onto. Each bump along the way was one more thing to push Emily over the edge from "I can take this" and "We can make it" to "No, I can't" and "No, we won't." And as she stood under the teeming water she knew, deep down, that she could not fight it any longer.

And Naomi, poor hapless Naomi, had no idea.

Emily needed Naomi then, more than ever; to be there, to really _be _there. She needed her touch, and her reassurance, the safe haven that being in her arms provided. But life just kept getting in the way. Work, classes, exams, family obligations, more work and ultimately sheer exhaustion and the growing darkness that was surrounding Emily kept them apart. And Naomi let it happen. At least, that's what it felt like to Emily in her darkest moments. If Naomi cared enough, she would be there, wouldn't she? But she was late again, somewhere else again, with someone else _again, _without a note or a call or a text. And Emily was left waiting, and wondering, and alone, again.

Her mood kept dropping as she toweled off and struggled into clean clothes. She couldn't be bothered worrying about whether the clothes she chose matched, or even to do more than towel dry her hair. She pulled on a hoodie from the pile on the bed, and moved out to the sitting room to wait, staring dully at the wall, wrapped up in her growing anger and frustration.

It had been coming for a while, really. It was no one's fault. But there had been fewer and fewer chances for gentle, loving words and touches between them over the past weeks. And even less time for talk or touch at all over the past few days. And the distance, however slight it was in reality, felt enormous to Emily, and made it even harder for her to fight against the shadows that had been dragging her down for so long. None of it was by design, none of it intentional. There were just not enough hours in the day, and not enough energy at the end of the day, and not enough hope or faith left at all to pull her through.

It had been weeks now since Emily had felt right, she realized. Old wounds and insecurities kept popping up, pulling open as though freshly inflicted. Everything just seemed so painfully difficult. And as she sat staring at the wall of her tiny home, Emily, who had fought so hard to have this life with Naomi, found herself angry and _questioning_ in ways that she never would have believed possible just a very few, very short months before. She could not deny any more that she was miserable. And forlorn. She was dejected and felt rejected at every turn. And she hated it.

The world in all its callous glory had broken through into Emily's fragile cocoon and had shattered it. It had dug in deep and hard, slipping behind all her barriers and protections, until now, it left her open to all her worst fears and doubts. Those fears and doubts had gained traction day by day like an unstoppable force. They had been dragging Emily down for months, breaking down the tenacious spirit that she thought she'd never lose. Until, on this ordinary Tuesday night, all that was left was uncertainty, surrender, and defeat.

She had tried to figure out why. But she realized, ultimately, that it didn't matter. It didn't matter if it was the lost internship and the lost hope that went with it, or the frustrations of her work and the aggravation of "it will be better soon". It didn't matter if it was Naomi's combative relationship with Jenna or her tenuous relationship with the concept of household chores, or if it was Cook or Jessica, or the man in the fucking moon. It didn't matter at all. Because it was everything, and it was nothing, and it was all-consuming, all-embracing, until she could no longer find the light.

Still, Emily had tried. She had really, truly tried to believe that they were strong, that they would make it, that _she_ would make it. She had tried so hard to believe that this feeling, this emptiness, would pass. Because they were Naomi and Emily. And that should have been enough.

That was why she had played along when Naomi planned for the future, why she had joined in when Naomi talked about the careers they wanted, and whether they should take a year off to travel after Naomi's graduation, and whether they should live in London or Bristol when Naomi was called to the bar. It was why she had even joined in when Naomi talked about marriage.

Emily had wanted to believe, so much. But they were pipe-dreams. Naomi just didn't know it yet. When they should have been building their future, instead they were unraveling, inexorably, relentlessly, because Emily was losing herself into the deep, penetrating gloom that consumed her. It clouded the hope and stifled the joy that had for so long radiated from Emily's every pore. And Naomi couldn't see it. Emily hadn't _let_ her see it.

It was tragic. And lonely. And on this last night, this unexpected Tuesday night, it was just too fucking much. No matter how hard she tried, Emily couldn't see a path to a happy ending. And so, their fairy tale story fell further apart with each tick of the clock, until by the end of that night, that ordinary, mundane, _awful_ Tuesday night, no amount of love could save it.

And they had a great deal of love between them still. That they loved was never in doubt, at least not for Emily, not really. But despite that love, the fragile thread that ran between them, the only thread still holding Emily to their life, to Naomi, finally broke, unable to withstand any longer the strains amassed against it. And it came apart in a particularly nasty, heart-breaking, soul-shattering way.

Emily was tired and angry and frustrated. By the time Naomi made it home she was also extremely agitated and bordering on out of control. As these things often go, her emotions hit their peak just as Naomi ambled her way through the door, with a casual, "Sorry, Ems, study group went late and then a few of the girls wanted to go for a drink."

Her emotions hit their peak,and Naomi's half-assed apology shoved her full force right through any chance she had left for a measured response.

"Right. Of course. A drink with the "girls", eh Naoms? Don't you mean a drink with _Jessica_?"

The sneer in Emily's voice as she said "Jessica", and the coiled tension in her body as she rose from the sofa to stalk towards her should have been a clue to Naomi to tread especially lightly, but the drink Naomi spoke of had actually been three or four, and Naomi wasn't entirely at her best, or at her sharpest as a result.

By the time Naomi finally cobbled together a muttered, "What?", Emily's face was so twisted with outrage and with a need for something, _anything_, to change, that she scarcely looked like herself. Her body trembled hard as she spoke. Her raised voice was brittle and harsh with its accusations, holding none of its usual warm, sensual rasp. This was it. She was done. She was tired, so very fucking tired. Tired of clawing and scratching to feel okay. Tired of working until she dropped. Tired of waiting. Tired of feeling like shit and having no choice but to keep feeling it. Tired of wishing and wanting and never fucking_ ever_ getting. She was fucking _exhausted_ with it all. She wanted, no needed, this limbo to end, because she was completely and utterly adrift and she did not know what else to do to try to get herself back. She had to leave because if she stayed she would break apart, she would shatter into a million jagged pieces, and she would take Naomi with her. She loved Naomi. She truly, deeply did. But this had to end. She had to go, while she still had some chance in hell of finding her way back.

And so she pushed. She pushed and she shoved and she picked at Naomi's tenderest of spots, calling Jessica every name in the book and calling out Naomi for wanting to be with her. She ripped open old scars, dove into the deepest of their wounds, and tore at them, clawed at them, with all her worth. She pushed until she was sure that Naomi would push back, and she would have the excuse she needed to leave.

"You're fucking her, aren't you?"

It was a ridiculous accusation, and Emily knew it. It was deliberate and it was blatant, leveled straight to Naomi's face. It was _meant_ to hurt. And, it had exactly the result that Emily intended.

Naomi exploded. Her own frustrated anger at being blind-sided by this, out of the blue, so unfairly, at this of all things being used to hurt her for no reason that she could understand, burned hot, too hot, and burst free.

"I'm _not_ fucking her, Emily. Are you fucking _mad_? I come home a little late and all of a sudden you think I'm _fucking_ her? You've gone demented, you have! Jesus Christ, what is _wrong_ with you?"

Emily didn't back down at all at the explosion. If anything she stood her ground even more, all her pent-up feelings fueling her hostility. This was it. This was her way out, and she'd be damned if she would let it pass. It made such sense to her then, this fight, this excuse. As completely fucked as it was it made perfect sense to her in the moment. She _needed_ it to make sense.

"I'd hardly call it demented, Naomi. You've been late every fucking time you saw her this week. Every fucking time, Naomi! And it's not like there's no track record here, is it, _darling_. You _like_ being chased, don't you, Naoms? So very fucking stalkable, aren't you? It's just like fucking Sophia all over again! Can't you fucking _see_ that?"

Maybe, if she hadn't been drinking, maybe if she hadn't been taken so much by surprise, maybe then Naomi would have handled it better. But she didn't. She lost it. Completely unable to cope with her past indiscretion being thrown in her face out of nowhere after all she'd done to prove herself, she lost it. Her voice was low and dangerous as she spoke, her body tightly wound as though to pounce at the woman in front of her. Her hands clenched and unclenched with the effort of not striking out.

"How fucking _dare_ you? Jesus! You know better…. You _have_ to know better. Fucking hell, if you don't trust me, if you have so little faith in me, in _us_, even after all this time… If you actually think that I could do that to us again, then maybe you should just fucking leave, Emily, and save us both the bloody misery! I mean, Jesus! Seriously. Why don't you just fucking leave?"

Naomi regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. She didn't mean them. She didn't want Emily to leave. She knew that it was stupid and self-destructive; a misguided, hurt-fueled tit-for-tat that could never end well. She knew it. But she didn't stop. She was too angry and too shocked and just a little too drunk in that one crucial moment, that one essential, life-altering moment, to find the strength to hold herself back even as she watched Emily freeze, then raise her head, fists clenching, eyes flaring, back straightening. And so she didn't say the words that might have fixed it when she had the chance.

She didn't apologize, or call Emily back to her, or ask to talk or suggest a break to calm down. She didn't do any of the hundreds of things that might have changed what happened next. She just stood there, dazed and stunned, numb as a statue, and watched as the shattered redhead stiffly gathered her coat and scarf, her eyes darting everywhere so as to avoid seeing Naomi as she moved, every muscle straining with the effort not to fly apart. And as she watched, Emily walked out the door, closing it slowly, resolutely and oh-so-very-finally behind her.

Naomi stood there unmoving for the longest time, just staring at the door, at the place where Emily had disappeared without even a backward glance. She stood there and she wondered how everything could have possibly gone so completely tits up so fast. This must be what it's like to be in an accident, she thought, or a disaster of some kind.

Her head was spinning with confused thoughts as she struggled to sober up and think things through. She couldn't make sense of it at all. She couldn't for the life of her understand how Emily could be gone.

She stumbled to the nearest chair, her legs giving way beneath her as the immensity of the situation began to sink in. Emily had left, to where she didn't know. It hit her, then, like a freight train. Emily might not come back.

And then she cried. She cried, and she cried, and she cried until she fell exhausted into sleep, the drying tracks of her tears mapping out her heartbreak across her troubled face.

.

**~ o0o ~**

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Have you ever had everything you ever wanted? Ever known without doubt that you could be happy forever if you could just keep hold of what you had in your grasp at that precise moment in time? If you have, then you probably understand how that moment, which is the best moment possible, is also the most terrifying. Because, of course, if you have everything that you could ever want right there in the palm of your hand, then you have to accept the fact that you could lose it all, too. It can all be taken away in an instant. And the thought of how devastating that would be, how positively crippled by it you would be… Well, there is very little that is more frightening than that. Except perhaps knowing in your very heart of hearts that losing it all is inevitable, inescapable. Because you are just not good enough or smart enough or strong enough or _something_ enough to keep it.

Naomi didn't do well with fear at the best of times. But this fear - the fear of losing Emily again, for forever this time, scared her more than anything on earth. And the fact that it was coming true was destroying her. Three days it had been since Emily walked out. Three fucking days when Naomi barely moved except to haul herself to the bathroom when it was that or wet her pants. Three days during which Naomi ignored every call, every text, every knock at the door. Because none of them, not one, was from Emily. And so none of them mattered.

She still couldn't quite believe that Emily hadn't come back that night. Sure they had fought, but it wasn't the first time, and Emily had always come back before. Because Emily knew that losing her was Naomi's greatest fear. Emily had always respected that and had never, not once, stayed away overnight in anger no matter how pissed off she was. Even when she found out about Sophia she came back. But it had been three days, and the fact that this was actually happening had left Naomi completely paralyzed.

That wasn't an excuse. She knew it wasn't. But it _was_ the truth. And as she lay on the couch, alone, lonely, missing Emily with every fibre of her being, Naomi knew that she had to at least _try_. Something. Anything. She had to try to make Emily talk to her. She had to try to convince Emily to give them another chance. They couldn't fall apart over Jessica for fuck's sake. It was ridiculous.

Naomi was hurt, too, of course she was. Emily had been massively unfair, and her accusations had hurt Naomi deeply. But Emily was so lost and angry that last night, so unlike herself, that Naomi eventually realized that it was up to her to reach out. It was up to her to do the chasing again and to try to bridge the gap between them so that they might have some chance of fixing this. She felt like puking at the mere thought of it, of stripping herself bare once more to beg for another chance. Her memories of doing just that at the shed were still vivid, and the thought that it might not work this time was devastating. She took comfort from the fact that Emily had listened then, and even in the face of Naomi's real transgression had found the faith to try again.

But Naomi was still afraid. Because she knew from the look on Emily's face when she left, and from the days of silence since then, that this time there was no guarantee that Emily would be willing to start over. In fact, Naomi knew that there was a very real and terrifying chance that Emily no longer believed in them enough to try. But the alternative, just letting go without giving it her best shot, was unthinkable. Emily was her everything. And Naomi had no idea how to exist without her.

So she forced herself off the sofa and stumbled to the bedroom. She was stopped at the threshold by the overwhelming sense of Emily that pervaded the whole room. It even smelled like her. She forced herself to move forward, trying not to see or touch the bits of Emily that were everywhere around her. She scrubbed herself off in the shower as quickly as she could. Then she pawed through her closet, trying to ignore Emily's clothes where they still hung, as abandoned as Naomi had been. She examined and rejected garment after garment, as though there was one "right" outfit to wear for this occasion, one outfit that would make all the difference. Finally, in frustration, she just pulled on the green dress that she was holding in her hand and the off-white floral jumper that lay at her feet and refused to change them.

She sat then, in front of her dresser mirror to fix her makeup and hair. It felt familiar, this. She'd been here before, before the shed. And as before, she didn't want to be quite herself. Perhaps, she thought, if she looked different, then Emily might believe she could _be_ different, whatever different Emily needed her to be. So, she primped and curled her hair and tweaked her brows and lined her eyes. All in the hope that it would make a difference, that _something_ would make a difference.

She grabbed her keys and her bag and raced down the stairs. She walked and tubed and trained her way to Bristol and then cabbed it to the street that Emily grew up on, to the only place that Naomi could think of that Emily would have gone. The journey was not a long one, she knew that, three hours at the most from door to door. But this time it felt endless. Her heart was hammering in her chest, beating faster and harder with each minute that passed. Finally, she could see it: the Fitch family home, the place that Emily would go because Katie was there. She shivered at the thought of who else she might find there, wishing desperately that Emily would be alone.

She paid off the driver and then took a deep breath and forced herself to walk forward up the broken path. As she got to the door, she could hear voices. She still had no idea what she was going to say, just that she had to say something. So, without bothering to knock, knowing that she was unlikely to be welcomed no matter who might greet her, she opened the door and stepped in.

The next moments were a blur. She saw Emily, looking haggard and tired in borrowed jeans and a jumper, perched on the edge of the loveseat in the t.v. room just left of the front door. And Katie, looking more reserved than usual in black slacks and a tee, sitting right beside her. Katie shifted to her feet like a guard to protect the younger twin from the threat that Naomi now posed, not knowing, of course, why Naomi was there or what she planned to do.

Naomi knew that she had only one chance, so she started talking. She couldn't say, now, exactly what she said, just that she told her truth and her need and her hope; she bared her heart and soul to the one person who most needed to hear it.

She spoke of her never-ending love for Emily, of how her heart beat only for the broken twin. She spoke of her fear, the paralyzing, mind-crazing fear of losing the person she loved most in the world. She promised over and over that she had not cheated, that she would never cheat again. She apologized for letting Emily doubt that even for a single minute. She promised faithfully to help Emily to believe in her, in them, again and to help keep her worries at bay in the future. She shared her dreams and her most desperate wishes, all of which included the beautiful redhead. And she cried, ugly, gagging tears that strangled her voice and gripped her chest. She cried for all the pain that they both had been through, for all the wasted time, for the doubts and the harsh words. She told it all, pouring her heart out across the few metres between them until she could find no more words to speak, hoping with every syllable, with every breath, with every beat, that Emily would find the courage and the will, just one more time, to fight for them.

When she was done she thought for a moment that it would be enough; that baring her heart and soul, her love and desire, in all their messy detail would be enough, like it had been all those months ago at the shed. They'd move on, get past this latest screw up, finish Uni, pursue their careers, build their life. Together. Like they were supposed to. Like they'd promised.

Of course, she was wrong. Deeply, tragically, hopelessly fucking wrong.

And that became perfectly clear when Emily simply rose up from where she had been sitting, and walked past Katie to the stairway that stretched up from the tile in front of the door where Naomi stood. She made no eye contact, ignoring Naomi almost entirely until she hesitated, briefly, while perched on the second step and uttered over her shoulder one simple, devastating word before scaling the rest of the steps and disappearing from view.

"No."

Nothing more. Just "no," and she was gone.

It took several seconds for Naomi to compute what had just occurred, to understand the full scope of the rejection, the finality of it. Despite her fears, she had never let herself actually believe that this could be the end. She had clung stubbornly to her faith that however bad things were between them, they would get through it. They would find each other again. She had known that it might be hard to work through, but the idea that they wouldn't even try, that Emily wouldn't even give them the chance, shook her to her core. Her thoughts spun wildly as she tried to comprehend what she had heard.

The force of it hit her, finally, with devastating effect when her brain finally acknowledged what her eyes had tried so very hard not to see: The necklace was gone.

Emily had worn that necklace every moment of every day since Naomi first placed it on her so lovingly at the silversmith's. It was a constant symbol of their dedication and love. But now it was gone, as though it had never been, as though it had never graced the redhead's sweet skin. It was this, more than anything, that brought home the true significance and tragedy of the moment to Naomi, and it almost brought her to her knees. Emily had removed the pendant from her neck, and there could be no clearer sign that she intended to remove Naomi from her life as well.

It was done. Emily was gone.

Naomi was startled from her agonized thoughts by Katie, who spoke with unexpectedly gentle words and voice.

"I'm sorry, Naomi. I wish it could be different. It's all well fucked up, and I really am sorry. But you need to go now."

Naomi stared dumbly at the older twin, her mind reeling, until the soft but persistent force of Katie's touch on her arm and back moved her out the door.

Naomi doesn't remember how she got home that night, or even if. She doesn't remember how the next days passed. She knows that there were drugs involved, and booze, and Cook. Always Cook, keeping her from harm, making sure she ended each night in her own bed, alone. And she knows that there were endless, bitter rivers of tears.

Naomi kept moving, after, but in her heart of hearts she never quite moved on. And the ghosts of what might have been never quite let her go.


	13. Chapter 13: Facing Facts and Fears

**Thank you all for sticking with me, especially through the last few angst-heavy chapters. In case you are interested, the last half of chapter 12 is where this story began. I wrote it and another section that is now in another chapter all the way back in January. It has been tweaked a fair bit since then, but it is the first part of this story that I wrote. Everything that comes before in the story leads up to it and everything that follows flows from it. So, thank you for the feedback that you gave about it through reviews and PMs and tweets. It helped calm a few frazzled nerves and I really do love knowing your reactions and answering your questions. **

**And to "Heinie" - the fact that you chose chapter 12 to post your first ever review absolutely made my day. I am truly honoured. Thank you.**

**Now, onward…**

**Disclaimer: Still not mine. Surprise, surprise.**

**~o0o~**

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**Chapter 13 ****–**** Of Facing Facts and Fears**

…_**Now**_

The banging at the door causes Katie to spill her just poured tea. Even Effy, usually so unflappable, jumps. Katie's swearing as the sear of the hot liquid splashes across her hand gets more colourful when she hears her sister's voice yelling from the other side of the door for her to "fucking well open up, you cow!"

Effy merely raises an eyebrow and settles herself more comfortably for the confrontation that is sure to follow, pulling her legs up under her and setting her cup aside while Katie grabs a tissue to dry her hand before stomping to the entryway. She pulls open the door with perhaps more force than is strictly required, and simply stares at her twin, with arms crossed and a very easy to read, "what the fuck is your problem" expression on her face.

Emily ignores the warning in Katie's posture and storms into the loft, throwing her bag on the nearest chair and whirling back to face Katie.

"You told her about the fucking bookshop!? The market and the chemists and the fucking _park_ weren't enough for you? What the fuck, Katie? What part of I don't want to see her do you not fucking understand?"

Before Katie can respond in kind, Effy tosses in a restrained, "Cup of tea, Emily? Then perhaps we can chat without actually inflicting bodily harm?"

Emily swings back to face Effy where she sits calmly picking lint off her skirt and gazing balefully at the younger twin while waiting for her answer. Katie will never understand how Effy can diffuse a situation so effectively. It is even more impressive than the way she used to create havoc with just a word or a look when they were young. But however she does it, it works, and Emily deflates, her head dropping to her chest and her eyes closing tightly as she struggles for self-control.

After a moment, she looks up again to Effy, and mutters a begrudging, "Tea would be good, yeah."

Effy rises from her seat with her usual grace and exits towards the kitchen without further comment. Katie watches as Emily moves over to the chair that Effy just vacated and drops into it, her head immediately finding rest in her hands, as her elbows drop to her knees. She is obviously and deeply upset, and seeing that has Katie second guessing every choice she has recently made. Emily looks shattered, and smaller somehow, as she sinks into the seat, shifting to wrap her over-sized grey hoodie around her black tights-clad legs.

They don't speak until Effy returns, although Katie does move from the doorway to claim her own place at the far end of the sofa that sits to the left of Emily's chair. The silence weights heavily on the older twin, making her uneasy. But Katie does not know how to break it and Emily is too tangled in her own thoughts to even notice.

Effy slips back into the room, hands laden with a tray filled with teapot, cup and milk, and gently places the works of it on the coffee table. She fills the cup for Emily and then tops up the cups that she and Katie had been using, every movement precise and unrushed, as though she is entirely unaware of the palpable tension emanating from the twins on either side of her. Once the drinks have been distributed and doctored, Effy takes control.

"So, care to share what brings you to our door in this… unusual state, Emily?"

Emily stares at her, as if assessing whether to answer her or smack her.

"Like you don't fucking know, Effy. Naomi cornered me at the book shop, just as I'm sure you planned."

"No escape this time, then?"

A tin quirk of Effy's lips and a slight glint in her eye are the only clue that she is enjoying this, but they are enough for Emily to notice.

"Not fucking funny, Effy."

Effy gazes across at Emily, her head cocked slightly to one side, and then nods, once.

"Alright. Fair enough. I take it that it didn't go well?"

"No, it fucking didn't go well!"

Emily doesn't often raise her voice, but she does now, venting her pent-up frustration and discomfort on the woman she knows instinctively is the architect of her current situation.

"You have to stop this. Both of you." Emily turns sharply to include her sister in her directive. "And you have to stop her. I can't handle it. Seriously. So no more, alright? Just make it stop."

Nothing about Effy's comportment would suggest that she is in any way ruffled by Emily's outburst.

"Did she yell?"

Emily swings back to Effy, her face revealing her surprise and confusion at the unexpected question.

"…No."

"Swear at you?"

"No."

"So, she hit you then."

When Emily catches on to what Effy is doing her anger builds again and she lashes out.

"Of course not. Jesus, Effy. But that's not the bloody point, is it?"

Effy smiles in her enigmatic way as Emily gives her the very opening she wants.

"Isn't it? Isn't the point that this woman you loved and, let's recall, left in rather a nasty way, wants a chance to talk to you – a perfectly reasonable request, really. And she has been nothing but respectful in asking for it without going so far as to just let you blow her off. Isn't that _exactly_ the point, Emily?"

Emily is rocked by Effy's direct and very pointed question, and is quite literally stumped for a response. She had expected them to agree to her request, as they had been doing since before she left for Ireland. It is a shock to realize that perhaps the situation has changed more than she thought.

Katie sees an opportunity in Emily's hesitance to join in, and she takes it, speaking quietly as though afraid to startle her twin.

"You know, Em, you are being well selfish if you think about it."

Emily can't believe her sister is turning on her, too, and she lashes out again.

"What the fuck, Katie?"

Katie hands immediately fly out towards Emily to calm her, and to reassure her,

"There's no need to flip out, Em! Not at all. I just mean, well, you're not really looking at this from her point of view, are you? I mean, saying you're staying away from her out of concern for Naomi… That's just bollocks really, isn't it?"

Katie's efforts to soothe her sister don't work, and Emily's control of her emotions slips even further.

"That's not fair, Katie. I'm trying to protect her and I _am_ thinking about what's best for her. I'm fucked in the head, Katie. Remember? And I fucked her over because of it. She shouldn't have to deal with that."

Katie starts to move without even thinking about it, wanting to be closer to Effy in light of her sister's callous, unthinking words. But before she can do more than shift slightly towards Effy, her roommate places a firm hand on her leg to stop her, and then quietly interjects, speaking directed to Emily. Her tone is deceptively flat, and without a hint of challenge or hurt, but her words tell a different story.

"Seriously, Em? That's what you're going with? You're fucked in the head and Naomi must be saved from you? That's lovely, Emily. Truly lovely. So, tell me then, what does that mean about me? Mmm? Let's face it, if you're fucked in the head I'm quite a few paces beyond that, right? So, spill... Do you think you need to be protected from me? Does Katie?"

Emily is mortified as Effy's words wash over her. She hadn't meant to insult or even comment on Effy or anyone other than herself. She hadn't been thinking about Effy at all when she spoke. She been too wrapped up in her own shit, in her own self-loathing. She'd mostly forgotten about Effy's illness, really, Effy having recovered so well. And she'd never thought that way about her anyway. She never been afraid of Effy or thought less of her because she was ill. She never would. And she feels truly horrified that Effy might believe she meant to include her in those hateful, self-directed words.

"Oh my God, Effy, no! Not at all! I _never_ meant that. God, I'm so sorry. You know I don't think that way about you. Jesus, please tell me you know that. I was being stupid…"

Effy waves off the apology, knowing that Emily did not mean to hurt her with her comment. Still, it stung, more than a bit, to hear such ignorant, hurtful words, even after all this time. She had heard too many opinions like that in her teenage years to ever fully be able to let them roll off without leaving a scar, however faint. So, despite her usual reticent approach, Effy decides that the time has come to stop coddling Emily about this.

"I believe you, Emily. I believe you didn't mean to insult or hurt me. You've never given me any reason to believe otherwise in all the years I've known you. Which makes me wonder all the more… Why are you still using what you know bloody well is a bullshit excuse to avoid facing up to your mistakes?"

If Effy is honest, she has been waiting for a chance to have this discussion with Emily for a while now. It has upset her from the beginning that Emily felt ashamed about something she could not control, and that she spent so long hiding instead of getting help because of it. Her own journey, as completely fucked up and difficult as it was, has proven to her in no uncertain terms that there is nothing more shameful about this kind of illness than there is about a broken leg. She knows that Emily has not yet completely learned that lesson about herself, but the fact that Emily keeps using it as an excuse – as a crutch, really, to avoid facing some unpleasant truths – does piss her off, and it worries her, too. She fucking hates the feeling of having to worry about her friends and it seems like that is all that she has been doing lately.

"It's depression, Emily. It's not a dirty word. It's not a reason for shame or for guilt. It's an illness and it's treatable as you should know better than most. It can be a bastard, for sure, but you're dealing with it. And while it may have contributed to the cluster-fuck of your break-up – something which I am quite sure Naomi will understand if you ever get your thumb out and tell her - it has nothing to do with the game you're playing now. And frankly, I'm starting to have a very hard time forgiving that. You have a choice here, and Naomi has made perfectly clear what choice she wants you to make. So this shit you're pulling about keeping her away – that's for you, not her. And Katie's right. It's fucking selfish."

Effy feels the buzz of her mobile in her pocket and takes a moment to glance at it. It is a text from Naomi, short and to the point.

_My place. Now._

Effy sighs at the sight, not pleased at the tone or at the thought of having to face the other side of this messed up coin. Life was a lot easier when she just sat back and watched. Still, she is in it now, so she turns her attention back to Emily and takes one last shot at getting her point across.

"She wants answers, Emily. You're the only person who can give them to her. So, give them to her or don't. But stop lying to us and to yourself about the reasons why."

Effy crosses the room to pick up her bag and grab her coat. She looks back to where Emily still sits reeling from the unexpected conflict and offers one last parting shot.

"You did what you needed to then, Emily. But it's time for you to do what she needs you to do now."

With that, Effy heads to the door, speaking over her should to Katie as she goes.

"I have to go. Got stuff to do. I'll see you later."

Once out of the flat, Effy leans against the door behind her for a moment, her eyes closed as she tries to contain her emotional fatigue. She hates taking about this stuff, hates the messiness of it, and hates the echoes of her own dark days that come back to haunt her whenever she has to think about them. She thinks back to when she didn't talk, and for the first time in a long time considers that time fondly. She gives herself a small shake, and then straightens up to head towards the next hurdle in her increasingly complicated day. This being a good friend shit is fucking exhausting, she thinks.

She has barely stopped knocking on Naomi's door when it swings open. Effy saunters in without bothering to say hello.

"I don't appreciate being summoned, Naomi. Next time at least say fucking please, right?"

The coolness in Effy's tone does not escape Naomi's notice, and she is quick to apologize.

"I'm sorry, Eff. You're right. I was just… I talked to her, Eff."

Effy lowers herself onto the sofa, and pulls a smoke from her pack before firing it up and taking a long, deep pull.

"Oh?"

"At the bookstore. She finally talked to me."

Effy gives nothing away as she slips into her detached persona. She is in a dilemma and she knows it, not wanting to share with Naomi the discussion she just had with Emily when she has no idea if it will prompt any change.

"Well, that's good, right?"

"Not so good, maybe. She told me to leave her alone."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Can you fucking believe it?" Naomi drops onto the sofa next to Effy and rubs her face with her hands.

"I chase her all over the bloody city and she finally condescends to fucking talk to me and all she does is to tell me to leave her alone. I could fucking throttle her, really I could."

Her aggravation pushes Naomi back onto her feet, and she begins pacing across the narrow space of the room. Effy just watches, wanting Naomi to work through her thoughts without interference.

"There's more to it, Ef. I know there is."

Naomi stops her pacing and turns toward her friend.

"There was something in her eyes, Eff – and don't you fucking roll your eyes at me, there was! There's something more to this whole fucking thing than she's told me."

Effy shifts slightly in her seat. It is hard to hide discomfort even with all her skills. Her eye roll was because of course Emily's eyes would tell the tale. They always did. But she can hardly explain that, can she? Naomi isn't stupid though, not by half, and she quickly catches on.

"You know what it is, don't you? You've been talking to her."

Naomi reacts as the pieces fall together. Emily would talk to Katie and Katie would talk to Effy and fucking inevitably they would all end up talking together. Of fucking course they would.

"Jesus. Of course you have."

Naomi shifts her focus back to Effy, her eyes drilling the smaller woman with fierce intent as her feet pull her forward almost without thought.

"You have to tell me, Effy."

Effy shifts again, pulling herself more upright, bracing slightly for the confrontation she had been hoping to avoid. Her voice is low, tinged with the slightest hint of regret as she speaks.

"I can't tell you, Nai. I really can't. It's not my story to tell. For that, you need to talk to Emily."

"But she won't talk to me!"

Naomi's frustrations burst out and she yells loudly enough to cause her to worry, briefly, about her neighbours complaining. In the pause, Effy parses through her options. She wishes that she could be sure that Emily would do right thing this time. But, nothing about their most recent interaction gives Effy any confidence of that. Emily has become timid again. She's not back to being a doormat, not quite. But she's not the Emily who took on Katie at the Love Ball and then fought to build a life with Naomi either. It is still not Effy's place to tell Emily's story, though. No matter how much she might want to.

"Then you'll have to wait, Naoms."

Naomi deflates at the words, and she sits once again, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

"Do you think she'll ever change her mind?"

Naomi's voice is small and doubting, and almost begging for reassurance. She has no idea what she wants from Emily. Not really. She wants answers about what happened, and about what is happening. But whether she wants more than that? She has no clue. One minute she thinks "yes," the next "no fucking way." Her emotions are completely tangled and confused. She's pretty sure they will stay that way until she gets the information that she wants from Emily. After that, it's anyone's guess. It depends so much on what those answers are that Naomi is almost scared to contemplate the possibilities.

"I don't know, Nai."

They sit, staring sightlessly together. Naomi is swinging between anger and sadness and irritation. She believes that she has been patient long enough. She has even more questions now – about the past, but also about the here and now. And on top of that, no matter how mad she is, she is finding it impossible not to worry about Emily and to want to help her. It's fucking ridiculous really. It is the concern, in the end, that causes her to ask what Effy for even more help, which she has been trying so very hard not to.

"Would you… could you try to convince her for me?"

Effy considers the request, wondering if she should admit to already having done so. But simply nods before reaching over to grasp Naomi's hand on the cushion beside her.

"Yeah. I can try."

Naomi lets loose the breath that she has been holding and squeezes Effy's hand in return in thanks.

"Vodka?"

Effy lets out a relieved chuckle before responding.

"Oh, fuck yeah. Most definitely."

**~o0o~**

.

Katie watches Effy slip out the door, before turning back to her twin.

"She's right, Em. It's time for you to stop running."

Emily is still overwhelmed by the upbraiding she received from Effy, but she rouses herself to respond.

"She doesn't need to see me, Katie. It will just hurt her more."

"For fuck's sake, stop with that crap, Emily. It's insulting that you would keep on about protecting her. Not seeing her is obviously hurting her, too, or she wouldn't be following you all over the bloody city, now would she? Any idiot can see that. So let's stop arseing around, alright? You don't _want_ to see her because you're too scared and too ashamed to do what's right, and that's just fucking unacceptable."

"That's not fair, Katie. It's not!" Emily loses what little control she had and her tears begin again. She stands up to gain distance from Katie and moves to lean heavily against the breakfast bar, wiping her eyes and nose on her hand when her brief search for a tissue comes up empty, Katie having used the last one to wipe the spilled tea from her hand.

Katie stands to follow her, the click clack of her heels heralding her approach. She is careful to leave enough room between them that Emily won't feel trapped. She has learned to do that over the past months.

"You love her, Emily. You know you do."

Emily sobs at those words, turning back to her sister. She looks into the face that is so much like hers and pulls comfort from the concern that she finds there. No matter how misguided her methods may have been, Katie has always tried to take care of her. Emily knows, deep down, that Katie is trying to do that now, too. But Katie doesn't know. She doesn't understand. So, Emily tries to explain her deepest fear.

"That's the whole problem, Katie, don't you see? I miss her _every_ day. _So_ much. If I let her in at all.. God… if I let her I won't be able to stop. Don't you get it? If I see her, if I talk to her, I _know_ I'll want her back. And I'll never get that. She'd have to be crazy… Too much has happened and too much has changed for her to ever love me again, even if she can find a way to forgive me, which I fucking doubt. And if she doesn't want me… If she doesn't… I just… I don't know if I can survive actually knowing that for sure, Katie."

Emily's tears are flowing steadily, her sobs making it hard for her to speak as her voice tapers off into a hoarse whisper. She stands there, broken and frightened and looking so very, very small until Katie scrambles forward to pull her into a tight hug, her own tears threatening to fall.

"Oh, Emily."

Katie helps Emily walk back to the sofa and sits them both down, her arms still wrapped around Emily's quaking back with Emily's face tucked under her chin.

"Right. I'm probably going to fuck this up, but fuck it, enough is enough. I haven't done this before because I didn't think you'd want me to get involved in your shit like this. But you're being well stupid, Em, really. So… I'm going to talk and you are going to fucking listen, okay?"

Emily sits up upon hearing these words, seeking distance from Katie and dashing the tears from her eyes as her whole body starts to tense. She tries to stand, but Katie grabs her wrist and pulls her back down, waiting for Emily to look at her before saying, with no room for argument, "You need to listen to me, Emily. Listen, and then you can go if you want."

Emily does not reply, but when she stops struggling against Katie's grip and stays, sitting rigidly, on the sofa the older twin takes that as permission to continue.

"I went along with it when you ran away to Ireland, Emily, because I love you and you told me it was what you needed. It drove me fucking crazy to see you run away like that, but I did what you asked and I let you go. I went along with you hiding when you came back because I love you and you said _that_ was what you needed. I even bullied Effy into keeping Naomi away from you for weeks, and that was no easy thing to do I can tell you. But, I think I was wrong, Emily. About all of it. And you have to know how fucking hard that is for me to say out loud."

Katie shifts so that she can face Emily more directly, reaching forward to take her twin's other hand in hers as well, pulling both towards her to rest on her bent knee. She stays like that, for a moment, not speaking, trying to figure out how to say what she wants to say. She will likely only get one chance to get through to Emily about this, and she doesn't want to bollocks it up.

"I was wrong to let you think you needed to be ashamed about your illness for even one single second, Em. There is _nothing_ about that for you to be ashamed about. Not one bloody thing. But I was also wrong to let you think it was okay not to face up to where you did go wrong. The way you treated her at the end…. that wasn't all the depression, Em. Some of that was just you being pissed off at the world and using her as your punching bag. What you did... how you did it... it was pretty horrible, Emily, and I know you know that, and I _know_ you regret it. And now…. Well, now you could help fix that. And instead, you're just fucking her around all over again and you've got no good reason. None at all. So, I'm going to do what I should have from the start. I'm telling you to talk to her, Emily. Because, as much as I hate to admit it, Naomi is right, and Effy is right. too. Talking to her is the right thing to do. She wants you to do it, and honestly, Ems, I think you need it, too."

"Jesus, Katie… you don't know what you're asking."

The fear and almost panic Emily is feeling seeps out of every pore, and imbues every tone in her voice. But before she can fight back any further or even try to dispute Katie's comments, the older twin shuts her down, gently, but firmly, and without room for debate.

"Yes. I do. I know I am asking a lot. I know that, Emily. But there's a reason. Campbell has always been your end game, you know? It fucking _pains_ me to say it. But you know it, and I know it, and fucking hell, the cat next door bloody knows it. And, from what I have seen, I think in the end Naomi might know it, too. I'm sure she's well pissed at you, and with good reason. But, if you give her a chance, if you explain where your head was, I think she'll understand. She always wanted to, with you. And I think, maybe, that if you apologize, really fucking sincerely apologize and give her a chance to forgive you, she might do that, too. You'll never know for sure unless you try. She just… she obviously needs this, Ems. And I think maybe you owe her that much."

"I can't, Katie..."

"Three and a half years Ems, and you still call her name in your sleep. You still cry at night for missing her. You haven't had a second date with anyone in months – fuck that, _years_ - because none of them can match up to her. I don't get it, I mean, like, _at fucking all_. But it's so bloody obvious that she's it for you. And whatever else might or might not happen, she is willing to talk to you. So, for fuck's sake talk. Maybe then you'll stop being so fucking annoying."

"I hurt her, Katie. I'm _still_ hurting her." Emily can hardly make the words come out of her mouth as the regret just buries her.

"Yeah. You are. And you can choose to fucking stop, right? Let's not forget she hurt you first and you forgave her. That's life sometimes. So maybe it's her turn to forgive you. Jesus, Em, you've tried throwing it away. You did your damnedest to fuck it up and it practically killed you. And yet here you are still feeling just as much for her as you did before. Only now you aren't who you were then and neither is she. So, isn't finding out if the new you can make something work now better than never even giving yourself a chance and having to keep living the fucked-up half a life you've been living?"

Emily turns away again, unable to answer and unable to bear the scrutiny in her sister's eyes.

"Fine. Whatever. But you need to think about this Emily. Not everyone gets second chances. Let alone third or fourth. So you think about this long and hard before you throw it away again. Despite all the shit that went down and all the time that's passed for some fucking reason she wants to talk to you. And you're a bloody idiot if you throw that chance away. Even if all it gets you is maybe knowing that she doesn't hate you."

Katie rises less than gracefully, her right leg having fallen slightly asleep as she spoke.

"I'm going to take a bath. Fucking stressful this is. You figure yourself out."

Emily barely catches Katie's last words as she hobbles out of room, "Fucking hell, I hate taking Campbell's side."

In other circumstances that might have made Emily smile. As it is, she simply sits, staring out the window with her sister's words echoing in her mind. Her thoughts turn to the confrontation with Naomi that morning, and that leads to a different echo, repeating again and again, beating against her reserves and undermining her resolve – "It's your turn to be brave."

She thinks back to all the times that she was the one who leapt in – their first kiss, their second kiss, the lake, "I'll miss you" at the lockers, inviting herself to move in, even staying with Naomi after the rooftop – so many times when she found the courage to try.

She knows that she shouldn't be ashamed to have depression, she _knows_, but it is really fucking hard to _live_ that knowledge, especially when she also knows that she does have something, many things, to be sorry for. She hurt Naomi on purpose that last night in London. She made out that Naomi was at fault for the split and then she made it so much fucking worse when she cut her dead in Bristol after Naomi poured her heart out asking for another chance. She was cruel, no matter what her reasons were at the time, and she knows it. The fact that she was hurting, too, and was not at all herself doesn't change that. She abandoned Naomi knowing full well how devastating that would be. She knows now that she didn't really have full control over her choices then, but still. She knew enough. And she could have done it differently. Naomi deserved better. She still deserves better.

Emily knows, deep down, that what is really holding her back is that she cannot think how she can possibly make it up to Naomi for that cruelty. She doesn't know how to explain in any way that will make sense what led her to those last days. And most of all, she cannot find the words to apologize in a way that can come close to truly expressing the scope of her regret. But despite all that, she is having a harder and harder time that is so very much within Emily's power to grant.

And that begs the real question, the one Emily has been trying so very hard not to face. How can she justify refusing to talk to Naomi now if she truly regrets what happened then? Emily gets stuck on that question, as she stares into space, unable to formulate an excuse that she can believe it. She sits looking without seeing, tears streaming down her face as she remembers and wonders and second guesses in her search for answers. She thinks of her first glimpse of Naomi at the park - of the immense shock of seeing her after so long, but also of the sense of coming home that struck her before her head had time to catch up with her heart. She was still so very much the Naomi she remembered, despite the change of hair colour and the business suit. Those eyes. Those fucking piercing, blue eyes. And then again this morning, she was so effortlessly beautiful standing there in the sun, with her sneakers and beanie. So beautiful and yet so heart broken. It hits Emily then, how strongly the recent days parallel the breakup - Naomi chasing her to pour her heart out and Emily saying no. When that thought hits her she literally gasps out loud, her hand reaching to cover her mouth as the full weight of her actions strike her. She can't keep doing this. She knows that now.

Finally, her hand trembling with unease and apprehension, she reaches for her mobile phone. She stares at it for what seems like endless minutes, her heart pounding ever harder, before she starts to type.

Naomi was right. It is her turn to be brave.

.

**~o0o~**

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**Progress! Palpable progress! (FINALLY, right?) Now, don't get _too_ excited. There's a long way to go yet... Feel free to let me know if you think that is good or bad news. The button's just… down… there.**

**BTW, I know that depression is a sensitive topic, and that each person has their own experience with it. I do not mean to suggest that Emily's experience is typical (or not). It is just her story, and I will try very hard to tell it well and respectfully.**


	14. Chap 14: The Ties that Just Keep Tugging

**Right. So, I know that I have told you all before how awesome Miss Marauder is as a beta, but she really outdid herself with this chapter. I was blocked - Like stuck behind a brick wall level blocked- and could not find a way to get anywhere near the emotional resonance this sequence needed. So, I shipped her (an embarrassingly poor) draft to review, and she came back with a ton of insights and suggestions that made it so much easier for me to see what I needed to do. The chapter still kicked my ass in a big way, but because of MM, I can finally post something that is not completely cringe-worthy. So thanks MM! **

**And thank all of you who review and PM and favourite and follow, or just lurk in the proverbial weeds and read. I love sharing this with you, and I appreciate very much that you want to share it too.**

.

**~o0o~**

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**Chapter 14 – The Ties That Just Keep Tugging  
**

…_**Now**_

Effy is pulled from her thoughts by the buzz of her phone signaling an in-coming text. The last few sips of the vodka that she and Naomi have been sharing rest in the bottle leaning against the inside of her thigh. She shifts to place the bottle on the floor and to dig her mobile out of her bra. One well plucked eyebrow lifts as she sees the sender ID: Emily. She slides her finger across the screen, curious to see why Emily is texting her of all people after the confrontation they just had.

_____ . _She said you would give me her number if I asked.

Well, well. That is interesting. Effy grins at the thought that Katie must have continued the "discussion" with Emily after Effy left. "Go, Katie! Good on you" is the first thought that strikes Effy as she considers the text. She looks over at Naomi who has dozed off curled up on the other end of the sofa, her hair drifting softly across her face. Not one to make things too easy, Effy carefully considers her response before hitting send.

_____ . _So are you asking?

There is a short pause before her mobile buzzes again – short enough to make it clear that Emily was waiting by her phone and answered right away.

___ . _Yes

A small, but very satisfied smile crosses Effy's face. Fucking _finally_.

___ . _Good. 

Effy adds in Naomi's number before sending her reply. She thinks about adding more, something like don't hurt her, but decides that at this stage less is more and that point is probably pretty obvious. She has to admit, it's a good feeling to know that her efforts have moved her two friends at least this little bit closer. It's satisfying in a way that she never would have understood even a few years ago. As she considers what she knows, Effy decides that she has hope that the two will get their acts together, although knowing them both, and the fears and doubts that drive them, she can't help but also be worried that they won't.

It's only a matter of a few seconds before Naomi's phone buzzes its way across the coffee table. Effy takes that as her cue to leave, not wanting to get caught up in whatever comes next between her two friends. She gathers her belongings and then leans over to wake Naomi.

"I'm going to head out, Nai. By the way, your phone was buzzing. You might want to have a look at it."

She looks down at Naomi affectionately, mentally crossing her fingers that she and Emily won't find a way to fuck this up again, and then she's on her way, looking forward to an evening with Katie to debrief. Tomorrow is going be nerve-wracking as hell for them all, but Effy knows that Katie will go mad waiting for word now that Emily has decided to "woman up" and deal with Naomi head on. Effy has already decided to pick up take-out and a decent bottle of wine for her room-mate before she utters a final, "'Night, Nai" to her sleepy friend and slips out of the flat.

Naomi groggily wishes Effy "good-bye", before she sits up, rubbing her eyes in an effort to wake up. She picks up her phone and puzzles at the unknown number. The mystery is short-lived, though, as she reads further

_____ . _It's Emily. Effy gave me your number. Will you meet me?

Naomi gasps as she comes very quickly fully awake, her surprise pulling her to her feet. She paces, a step this way, then immediately a turn and step back, frazzled, making almost a circle as she struggles to get a hold on herself and sort through her reactions. She's both ecstatic and full of dread, uncertain what this will mean. But she manages to pull herself together enough to realize, firstly, that this is what she has been asking for all along, and secondly, that she needs to give some kind of an answer. She stares hard at the little device in her hand before making her decision and replying.

_____ . _Yes. When?

Emily almost screams when her phone beeps. She was half afraid that Naomi would ignore her, and has been on tenterhooks waiting for the reply. She reads the message and can feel literally every cell in her body tense with the realization that she's going to have to do this. For real. She's going to have to face Naomi. Before she can think too much about what that actually means and freak herself out even more, she texts back.

_Tomorrow. I have to work tonight, so can we meet early? Say 8 am?_

Emily forces herself to sit still as she waits, but she can't keep her leg from bouncing up and down at a ridiculous pace. She is practically vibrating with anxiety about doing this, but she's determined to follow through. She knows that she needs to do this for Naomi, but sweet Christ it's terrifying to contemplate. She stares at her phone as though she can make it respond just by wishing for it. Finally, it beeps again and she rushes to open the new text with her heart pounding in her throat.

_____ . _I can manage that. Where?

Fuck. Where? Where should they go? They need to be able to talk, but Emily knows that she won't be able to handle doing this in any kind of confined space. She starts to feel claustrophobic just thinking about that. One of things she has trouble with now - a little side dish that tagged along with the depression - is confined spaces and crowds, especially when she is upset or anxious. And she knows damn well she is likely going to be both tomorrow. She learned the hard way not to tempt that. When it hits her it feels like the walls are closing in on her. It feels like she can't breathe and she panics. The first time it happened she had just arrived in Ireland and she actually knocked someone down in her rush to get back into the open air. Then it hits her – the open air. They may have already inadvertently found the perfect place.

_____ . _There's a bridge over the river in the park were you saw me the other day. Do you know which one I mean?

Emily sits hunched over in her seat with her mobile clenched in her hand as she types in the message. Across town Naomi unknowingly mirrors her exact posture, feeling a very similar jumble of excitement and trepidation about the conversation. When the new text from Emily arrives, Naomi pauses over the message, wondering at the suggestion for a public meeting place. It seems odd to her, but then again the whole bloody situation is odd. She figures if it is too weird, they can always move somewhere else, and so she agrees.

_____ . _I know the one. I'll see you there tomorrow morning at 8.

A moment later her phone buzzes once more. The reply is brief.

_____ . _Thank you.

Naomi spends a long while reading and re-reading the exchange, trying to glean any hidden clues that might be buried in it. Eventually, she realizes that she's getting nowhere, so she adds Emily's number to her contacts, hesitating only briefly before listing it under her ex's full name. It feels so strange to do that, to create this tangible connection to Emily once again. Somehow that simple act feels hugely significant and she can't quite explain why, but it unsettles her.

Naomi puts down the phone and tries to shake off her malaise. She decides to cobble together a small supper from the leftovers in the fridge. She knows that she should eat something, especially after the amount of vodka that she and Effy managed to put away during the afternoon. So, she plates the strange mix of veggie pizza, pad thai, and moo goo guy pan that is left in her fridge, and then tosses it in the microwave to warm. She doesn't actually taste any of it as she eats, too preoccupied by the possibilities of what the morning might bring.

When her simple meal is finished, Naomi decides to take a hot bath to try to settle her nerves. It doesn't work though, and a few hours later she's still wide awake and tossing and turning in her bed. The emotional boomeranging is giving her whiplash as she flips between the ever-present anger she feels towards Emily, anxiousness about the morning, and something that isn't quite happiness, but is moving in that direction whenever she thinks about actually spending time face to face with Emily. She realizes that the mere thought of actually talking with Emily again, however awkward and painful that might be, is something that she is very much looking forward to. It is strange to feel such conflicting emotions all at once; strange and incredibly disconcerting.

Frustrated to the point where it is obvious she won't be able to sleep any time soon, she gets out of bed and pulls on black plaid sleep shorts and a white vest top to cover her nakedness, and then ambles to sitting room. She grabs the checkered blue and white throw from off the recliner and tucks it around her shoulders to stave off the cool night air. She contemplates grabbing the bottle of Jack, her usual sleep aid, but knows that this is not a night to be drinking, not when she needs to be clear and cool-headed and together the next morning when she speaks to Emily. Instead, she settles onto the sofa again, and switches on the iPod radio. She can't help herself. She needs to hear Emily's voice.

For the longest while, there is just song after song that plays. The music is good, it's fine. But the endless run of songs without Emily to introduce them is strange, and not at all the way it has been when Naomi listened to Emily's show before. A tendril of concern creeps up her back, and she fidgets where she sits.

Finally, Emily's voice drifts through the speakers. She sounds as though she has a cold, but Naomi didn't see any sign of that when they spoke that morning. Could she have been crying? Naomi is concerned, but nothing about what Emily is saying suggests that there is a problem. Emily is perfectly professional on the face of it, almost too much so. Eventually Naomi realizes that what is bugging her is the way that Emily's voice lacks the warmth and connection to her audience that Naomi has heard on previous nights. She seems distracted, or maybe disengaged. Naomi has to believe that it's because of her, because of the meeting that they had that morning and the one they will have the next. And she's not at all sure how she feels about that. She knows for sure that Emily was upset earlier, that much was pretty fucking obvious, and frankly Naomi can't help feeling a little bit of satisfaction that this whole thing has Emily so off-balance. But on the other hand, she has always hated to see Emily upset. And she doubts very much that will ever change.

Eventually, Naomi's tiredness overtakes her despite her interest in listening to Emily, and she reluctantly heads back to bed, both eager for and dreading the morning to come. She is fast asleep by the time Emily finally signs off the air and shifts her focus to her post-show reports and prep for the next night.

It has been the most difficult show of Emily's life. She has never been so nervous before, even when she made her very first on-air appearance. But she couldn't shake the idea that Naomi could be out there, listening, and that thought, coupled with her mounting stress about the morning just completely fucked her up.

She was alright when she first arrived at the studio. A little wired, and a little distracted by the exchange with Naomi and the ones with Katie and Effy before that, but overall fine. And then she sat down in front of the microphone and froze. She absolutely fucking froze, completely unable to string a sentence together. There were a few seconds of dead air off the top as she tried to get herself together, before she finally went straight to music. It wasn't a panic attack, what she was feeling, not quite. But it was still paralyzing. She couldn't think of what to say because she kept imaging how each possible comment would be received and interpreted by Naomi if she was listening.

Everything she started to say seemed so loaded. If she acted happy would Naomi think she wasn't taking this seriously? If she sounded unaffected would Naomi think she didn't care? If she sounded sad would Naomi think she was going the "poor me" route? What if she said she liked a song and it turned out to have some lyrics about a breakup? It went on and on, with these panicked thoughts rushing through her mind at light speed. It was fucking _awful_ and before she knew it, Emily was struggling to hold back tears. She was so overwhelmed with concern about how her words and tone could be misinterpreted that she was effectively rendered mute, paralyzed by the thought that she might inadvertently inflict more pain on the woman who might be listening. And that, coupled with the thought of just how different this moment could have been if Emily had never left, if she and Naomi were still together, just tore the heart right out of her. Thankfully, she was able to cue up a long sequence of tunes to give herself a little time to regroup, thanking her stars the whole time that she produced the night-shift herself so that there was no one in the studio to see her falling apart.

She eventually stopped crying about a half hour into the show, and forced herself to dry her eyes and blow her nose and try to clear her throat so that it wouldn't be completely obvious to every listener that she had been sobbing her heart out. By the time she was ready to go on air again, she had figured out an approach to the necessary patter – straight intros or extros for the songs, with no personal commentary or insights added in - just the name of the song, the artist and occasionally the album title and no more. She threw in the time and the weather and a mention or two of the other shows that would air the next day, and talked up the idiotic prize game the station was running. But she kept herself out of it completely. It wasn't a perfect plan or even a terribly good one, but she got through the show. It was rough and uninteresting and she'll probably hear about it from her boss if she is unlucky enough that he had tuned in, but she got through it. And at this point, that is the best she could hope for.

It's almost 7:15 a.m. by the time she's finished all her work, so she decides to head straight to the bridge. She'll be early even if she walks there, but she hopes that the exercise and fresh air will do her some good and help her burn off some of her anxious energy. She is completely lost in her head, bombarded by a riot of memories of her time with Naomi, and the truly bad times after. She is so preoccupied and tense that she doesn't really notice anyone or anything during her walk. At one point she rouses enough to realize just how tired she is from the emotional turmoil and she considers stopping to pick up a coffee. But she is quite literally nervous enough to puke so she decides not to risk it. She is so fucking jumpy that she can't stop shaking, every cell screaming with hope that maybe, just maybe, Naomi won't come and she won't have to do this today. Maybe she'll get a reprieve. And then she flips to feeling just as terrified that Naomi won't come, that she'll decide that Emily isn't worth the time and effort. It's exhausting and disquieting and really fucking draining.

When she first glimpses the wooden foot bridge in the distance between the trees it's a relief, but at the same time knowing that she's so close to seeing Naomi again brings home just how very much not ready for this she is. She's not even close to emotionally prepared; her meltdown last night and her state right now make that pretty clear. But the little voice in her head keeps telling her that she owes this to Naomi and she has to come through, she has to find a way to do this. It's fucking annoying how much that voice is starting to sound like Katie, because let's face it, Katie has never been the poster child for empathy and consideration. Still, Emily knows that leaving at this point would be beyond unforgivable and so she gathers all her courage and will-power and she stays. She leans, collapses really, against the bridge railing when she arrives, getting lost in the motion of the fast-moving river. It's about 3 metres across, no more, but the water is running high. She tries to find calm and solace in the sound and sight of the water scrabbling over the rocks, but today its usual magic is lacking and it doesn't have the soothing effect that it normally does.

Compelled to move by the pent-up energy that she cannot contain, Emily shifts around so that she can lean her back against the rail. As she does, she glimpses Naomi in the distance, approaching up the walkway in a sharp blue business suit and matching pea coat. The sight steals her breath as her eyes rake over the woman, taking in every detail. She is so fucking beautiful it hurts. Emily can't help but wonder if Naomi always looks so put together these days, or if she made a special effort that morning. Either way, Emily's heart leaps at the sight of her, racing just that little bit faster in response just as it always did, before the fear settles back in. She wishes, for an instant, that she had taken more care with her own appearance rather than coming in her standard work garb of jeans, chucks, jumper and jacket, as though that was important, as though it would make the slightest bit of difference.

When Naomi gets closer, Emily notices the signs of fatigue and anxiety that criss-cross the young barrister's face - the black circles under her eyes, and the telltale lines between her brows that have always telegraphed when Naomi is not getting enough sleep. Emily is left feeling desperately uneasy again, and more than a little ashamed as the real import and reason for this meeting – the very many way that Emily has hurt Naomi, intentionally or not - slams back into her consciousness once more.

"Hi." Naomi's greeting is hesitant, which in a strange way makes Emily feel better. At least she is not the only one feeling so awkward and uncertain. But also makes her feel a million times worse for causing it.

"Hi."

The silence that follows is uncomfortable, not at all what they are used to. It is weighted and nervous and tense. It feels almost like the earliest days back in college, back before they found a way to love each other. Naomi is struggling to hold onto her equilibrium. She can't help but respond to being so close to Emily once more and that is unsettling as hell given all that has transpired between them. It sparks her anger again, setting it to bubbling away, just barely staying within the fragile scope of her control. The woman in front of her caused her extraordinary pain, and a sense of loss that is only underscored by this renewed proximity. It is difficult, very difficult, not to just give in and start yelling. As a result, Naomi doesn't speak at all, instead she looks at Emily, trying to glean some hint from her appearance as to why they are here, now, in this place. Eventually Emily can't take the silence or the scrutiny any longer and the words just sputter out of her.

"I want to start by saying I'm sorry, Naomi. That's not enough, I know, not nearly enough. But I am. I am truly sorry."

She dares to look up from under her fringe at the woman who held her heart for so long, who still does, but the eyes that she connects with are not what she remembers. They are not warm or welcoming. Naomi is shielding herself, protecting herself from Emily. She is standing there with her arms crossed in front of her, literally covering her heart, and that cuts the twin deeper than she could have imagined. Emily drops her eyes at the sight, and her own heart clenches as the reality of just how much damage she has inflicted on this woman that she cares so much about strikes home with a vengeance. She used to be the one Naomi trusted, the one Naomi felt safe with. And now, she is very likely the one Naomi trusts least of all. Emily can't blame her, not at all, but fuck it hurts.

"For what, exactly?"

Naomi's question is delivered quietly, calmly. But the emotion that drives it is anything but calm, Emily can tell. There is a ton of heartache and heartbreak behind the words, and a fear, so much fear, that the answer won't be what she needs to hear.

You would think that Emily would be better prepared for this question. It's an obvious one. And yet, she's not prepared, not for any of this, and she struggles to keep hold of her emotions under Naomi's scrutiny.

"For how I left. For eveerything I said before I left."

Naomi considers the response, nodding her head and digging her foot into the grounds as she does.

"Huh. Not _because_ you left? You're not sorry for that?"

Naomi's voice is still eerily composed, but a slight waver betrays the true scope of her emotions and it hits Emily like a kick to the gut. She rushes to try to fix it.

"That's not what I meant. Not at all. Of course I… fuck. I just… There's so much more to that… That's a much longer conversation, Naomi. You have to understand, there's a lot that you don't know."

"And whose fucking fault would that be, Emily?"

Naomi's illusion of calm is shattered as the bitterness that she has been holding in breaks free. Her blue eyes flash with hurt and her voice cracks with anger.

"Mine! It's my fault, Naomi. I know that."

Hearing those words, and seeing the truth of them shine through on Emily's face, helps Naomi regain some control of her emotions. She takes a deep, cleansing breath before barking out, "Good. So what are you going to do about it?"

Emily searches for a way to tell Naomi about everything that she experienced, all the difficulties that she faced in trying to deal with her depression, but she is again struck by the fact that she doesn't have any idea how to begin. Still, Naomi is standing in front of her waiting for answers so Emily gives the best one that she can manage right then.

"I promise that I will answer your questions, as many as you want to ask. And I will explain everything. I _promise_ I will. But I need to ask you to let me do that in my own time. Please. It… it's not easy for me to talk about it, that time. It's so fucking complicated and messed up. And… I will tell you. I _want_ to tell you, I do. All of it. But can it not be today? I'm just so exhausted and so off-balance and so fucking _scared_, Naomi, and I just know that if I try to talk about it today I'll fuck it all up and make it worse."

Emily tries to swallow the sobs that are threatening to overtake her. She hates that she can't control her reactions any more. She hates that she still gets this fucking upset. She tries to focus on her breathing the way she was taught, deep breaths in an out until she captures back some semblance of composure. Finally, when she can talk, she tries again.

"I know I hurt you, Naomi. And there's no excuse for that. There is an explanation, maybe. Partly anyway. But there is no excuse, and I _know _that now. I am sorry, Naomi. I truly am."

Naomi is struggling to fight down her own tears as she watches her ex fall apart in front of her. She doesn't want that. She doesn't want either one of them to feel more pain. But it seems that there is no way to avoid it. She can't just let this go, so whether it hurts Emily or not she knows that she needs to push forward. She takes a careful step towards Emily, feeling a compulsion to close at least some of the gap between them.

"I want to know why, Emily. I want to know why you blew my world into pieces without so much as a fucking good-bye. You owe me that much, I think."

Emily sees the tears on Naomi's face, and hears the pain and the sense of betrayal behind her words. She nods her head in agreement, trying to convey that she really does understand where Naomi is coming from and that she knows Naomi has a right to ask.

"I know." She can't stop the tears that are streaming down her face. This is so fucking hard, facing Naomi, facing how much she hurt her, to know that this person she loves has been through so much pain and loss because of her, because of the choices she made. The regret and the guilt are overwhelming, and along with the sense of shame that she still can't shake about her depression they are making it fucking impossible for her to cope with this moment.

"I will tell you, Naomi, everything. I promise. But, it is not a simple story or a short one, and it… I just need to figure out how to talk about it. I haven't… I've never… Fuck. I don't know how to do that, Naomi. With anyone, let alone you."

Naomi's frustration flares again at those words. It feels like Emily is trying to run again, to avoid telling Naomi what she wants to know. One part of her wants to just shake Emily until she stops evading. But another part – the part that has been watching closely as Emily spoke - can't help but see how uncertain and shaky she is. Naomi can see that Emily really is a mess over this. She isn't faking it. She can't make eye contact, she's twitchy and unsure in her movements, and she has been crying almost since Naomi first arrived. Naomi can see how distraught Emily is, and despite how irritated it makes her to be faced with not getting answers once again, she can't help but feel Emily tug at her, triggering all the protective instincts that have lain dormant for so long.

On top of that, Naomi has spent enough time interviewing and preparing fragile witnesses to recognize that there is really no point in pushing Emily on this right now. She'll more than likely just fall even apart even more, which won't help either of them. So, despite wanting to know everything right away, Naomi's logical brain and her aching, wounded heart combine to convince her to give Emily some time to collect herself, knowing that will ultimately improve her chances of getting to the truth. In all honestly, in a way she's kind of relieved, and maybe even a little pleased, to see Emily so upset. Naomi knows that isn't kind, it isn't right, but fucking hell at least it means that maybe Emily gives a shit about what she did and how it hurt her. And maybe it means that she really does regret what she did, too. At least Naomi hopes that's what it means. She doesn't want to see Emily in pain, but fuck she wants to know that what they had once meant something to her.

"Okay."

The look of relief and thanks that Emily gives her makes Naomi glad that she agreed. No matter how pissed off the gets, Naomi can't seem to help but want to shelter Emily even now.

"I'll call you, okay?" Emily's voice is shaking as she speaks, and she fumbles in her pockets for a tissue to wipe the flood of tears from her face.

Naomi considers that. But she can see how hesitant and scared Emily is, which makes her not want to leave the timing of the next meeting up to her. So, Naomi suggests something else

"How about we meet tomorrow night before your shift? We can maybe take this in steps after that, a meeting every couple of days for a little while, until we've talked about… well, everything we need to talk about."

Emily is frightened by the idea, but she can understand why Naomi wants something concrete, and so she agrees. Naomi knows just the place for them to meet - Casey and Sue's bakery.

"Okay. There's a little shop I know. It's small and quiet. The owners are great, and they'll leave us alone so we can talk in peace. The coffee is decent and there is hardly anyone there after business hours, so we'll likely have the place almost to ourselves. I'll text you the address, okay. Will 7 p.m. work for you?"

Emily signals her agreement with a nod of her head. Naomi says, "Okay, good," and starts to move away to head to work. She actually exhales in a fleeting sense of relief now that this first meeting is over and she has finally managed to speak with Emily. It didn't go exactly as planned, but it is a start. She is almost to the end of the bridge and looking forward to a respite from the stress of waiting that has been weighing on her for so many days when the nagging feeling that Emily isn't okay starts nudging at her again. She stops, torn between moving on with getting through her own day and making sure that Emily will be alright. It's fucking ridiculous, and more than a little annoying, but she can't help but turn back, the seemingly inevitable tie between them tugging against her once again.

"Are you alright, Emily? It's just… Are you okay to get home?"

She watches Emily smile sadly and takes a breath before answering.

"I'll be fine. Thank you. This is just… I don't know… hard. It's just really hard."

Naomi looks down at her feet for a moment, struck by the emptiness in Emily's eyes and voice.

When she looks up again, it is to say, "I know. It's hard for me, too."

She turns away again, and tosses a gentle, "I'll see you tomorrow" over her shoulder before heading down the path towards the nearest tube station, trying to hold herself together until she is out of Emily's sight, until she can let go the tangle of emotions that are besetting her without worrying about being seen. She has no fucking idea how the hell she's going to manage to get through this work day now. No fucking idea at all.

Emily watches her go with tears still streaming down her face once more. She knew that it would be painful to face what she has done to this woman she loves. But it is worse, far worse, than she had imagined to see that pain face to face. She stays on the bridge, listening to the water roll by until her tears stop. And as she waits, she begins to realize that the buzzing anxiety and concern that had been overwhelming her before Naomi arrived is gone. She knows now that Naomi will give her room to tell the story in her own way, and that she genuinely wants to hear what Emily has to say. The relief that knowledge brings is tremendous. But she also knows that the bone-deep fear that Naomi will never forgive her is just as strong as ever. Emily was right to worry about seeing her again. Because now that she has… now that she has seen Naomi and spoken with her without running, now that she has looked into those familiar blue eyes again without all her defenses and barriers firmly locked in place, now that she has let herself hope for something better, something more, Emily knows without question that it will absolutely fucking destroy her if she has to let Naomi go.

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**~o0o~**

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**In case you can't tell, this is going to be a slow re-building process. There is a lot of complicated emotional shit to work through for both of them, and it's the kind of stuff doesn't get resolved overnight. Stick with me, though. I think you'll like where it goes. In the meantime, let me know what you think. The magic button is just down there.**


	15. Through Unsettled Waters

**Sorry for the delay. I'm trying to get out a chapter each week, but life is being a bit of a bitch these days and I just don't have a lot of time to write. These chapters are too important to rush, so please bear with me!**

**I have to send out major thanks to oneluckygal who kindly offered to be my guide for all things Ireland, some of which show up in this chapter. All mistakes are mine, but she did her best to point me in the right direction.**

**Haven't done a disclaimer in a while. Probably should, so this is it.**

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**~o0o~**

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**Chapter 15 - **

"This is a positive step, Emily. A really positive step."

Emily barks a wry laugh in response. "It doesn't feel terribly positive at the moment."

Emily had called the counselor before she left the bridge to ask for an emergency phone appointment and Dr. Cochrane had been glad to oblige. She isn't supposed to have favourite patients, that would be unprofessional, but Emily is something special and the psychologist was more than happy to make time for her, albeit at a distance.

For Emily's part, she was just glad to have found someone she felt comfortable talking to. She saw Dr. Cochrane while she was living in Ireland, but for obvious reasons it has been some time since her last appointment. They have talked at length in the past about Naomi, and the break-up, and all the things Emily wishes were different. But until 10 minutes ago when this call began, Dr. Cochrane had no idea that Emily and Naomi had met up again, or that Naomi had been following Emily. She is surprised, but very pleased, that Emily has agreed to talk to Naomi. She, as well as anyone, knows just how afraid Emily is of facing that part of her past.

"So, how are you feeling about all this?"

"Oh, God. Terrified! I have no fecking idea how to even begin."

Emily has curled herself into a paisley patterned armchair at home, her feet tucked under her arse and her arms wrapped tightly around herself, with the long sleeves of her green jumper clenched in the fist that isn't already occupied holding the phone.

"It's not beginning that frightens you, Emily. It's what might follow once you finish."

Emily recoils fractionally at that little dose of home truth before responding. Even in the doctor's lilting accent, an accent that Emily adores, the stark truth of the statement is jarring.

"So what then? How do I do this? 'Begin at the beginning, …and go on till you come to the end: then stop…?'"

Dr. Cochrane can't help but grin at the literary reference and her amusement slips into her initial response before she shifts effortlessly back into her more professional guise.

"More or less, yes. Tell me, Emily, what do you hope to get out of these meetings with Naomi?"

Emily takes a moment to consider her response, as she learned to do over the months that she worked with Dr. Cochrane.

"I'd like her to forgive me, obviously. But I'd also like her to know what I went through. You know, like, some of it really wasn't okay, and .. I don't know."

"I know you are worried that she's angry with you, Emily. But we've also talked about the ways in which you are angry with her. And if talking to Naomi is going to be helpful for you, I don't think you can ignore that part of the story. If you're going to do this, and I do think that you should, you need to be honest. However it comes out, just be sure that you tell her the truth. Without that, without your complete honesty, there isn't much point to this exchange."

"Okay. Yeah, alright."

"That doesn't sound terribly convincing, Emily."

Emily shakes her head in frustration. The idea of complete honesty with Naomi seems like a less than likely way to help them get past all that happened. Her silence does not go unnoticed by the doctor, who remembers clearly Emily's initial reluctance to hold Naomi accountable for any part of their past history, and in particular for the events that led to their split. It took a very long time for Emily to accept that Naomi contributed, however unintentionally, to what occurred.

"Look, Emily, under normal circumstances I would help you work through this yourself over time, but you've told me you're meeting with her again tomorrow, so there really isn't time to use. What I suggest, then, is that I fast forward a bit and give you some suggestions for how you may want to proceed. Then you can think about what I say between now and tomorrow and you can decide whether or not you agree. Alright?"

Emily is intrigued by this approach as Dr. Cochrane typically, and most frustratingly, usually required Emily to figure out all the steps herself. She murmurs her assent, which is all the permission that the good doctor requires.

"Right. If you're going to talk to Naomi about what happened between you I really can't recommend that you edit or hold back in that discussion. For this to help you - either of you - in the long run, you need to talk about all of it: The part that you take responsibility for, _and_ the parts where you believe that Naomi could have done better by you as well. If this is going to have any benefit for you, I suggest that you can't let it be simply a "blame Emily" exercise. It was far more complicated than that, as we've discussed so often before. And over-simplifying it now is unlikely to help either one of you come to terms with what happened."

Again, Emily pauses to consider what she has heard before responding, and Dr. Cochrane gives her the time and space to do so.

"What if that pisses her off? Like, if she thinks I'm making excuses?"

"You can't control how she'll react, Emily, and frankly you shouldn't try. Just tell your truth as respectfully and painlessly as you can. What she does with it is up to her. But ignoring parts of that truth to spare her feelings is unfair to you, and potentially damaging as well. So, I'd ask you not to go that route."

"Okay. I'll think about it."

"I also want to remind you that if you start to feel too uncomfortable or like you are losing control while you are talking with her, then you should stop. Explain it to Naomi and, from what you've told me about her so far, I suspect that she'll understand. It may take some time, though, Emily. You do understand that?"

"I know. I just… I can't figure out how to talk about the depression. I mean, I barely understand that myself."

Emily hears the doctor's murmured acknowledgement, which is followed by a short pause as the doctor gathers her thoughts.

"I know you're not comfortable talking about that yet, Emily. But there is really nothing at all to be ashamed of. As to how to talk about it, well, I don't think you need any fancy words or special terminology. Just tell her how you felt, and what you felt. And tell her how it affected the decisions that you made."

"Yeah. _That _sounds easy."

The doctor takes no offence from Emily's sarcasm, understanding its source.

"I didn't say it would be easy, Emily. But I do believe that you can handle this."

Emily just nods, not entirely convinced, and forgetting in the moment that the doctor cannot see her.

"What about the rest, though?"

"You mean the fact that you refused to see her when she came to Bristol?"

"That, yes, and not helping with the house, and just… I left her. Without a single word. She came all the way to Bristol and I didn't even talk to her."

"Yes, you did, Emily. And I know you regret that. Perhaps she should know that to."

Once again Dr. Cochrane lets the silence linger, giving Emily time to consider her comments. This is not new territory, but it remains very sensitive ground.

"What if I blank out? What if I can't find the words to explain?"

"Well, you may want to jot down some of your thoughts before the meeting, to try to order them in your own mind before you have to talk about them. Just doing that may help you figure out what you want to say, and how."

"Yeah. Maybe."

Dr. Cochrane notices that the hour is coming to a close, and there are some things that she still needs to cover before she will feel alright about letting Emily hang up.

"Do you remember the tools we talked about, the ones to help manage your anxiety?"

Unfortunately for Emily, increased anxiety was a side-effect for her of the anti-depression meds she went on for a while, and it did not go away even after she stopped taking the medication.

"Yes, I remember."

"Doing any of them?"

Dr. Cochrane can feel how sheepish Emily feels without needing to see her.

"Um. Not really."

"Might I suggest that you start, Emily. I know the journal helped when you were here, and you used to tell me that getting solid exercise each day helped you sleep, if I recall…"

"It did. I do jog, still. Almost every day."

"Good. That's good. How about breathing?"

"I try to do that each day, too."

"Ha. Ha. Very funny, Emily." Dr. Cochrane is actually happy to hear the touch of humour in Emily's voice. It is a positive sign, one of the few that she has heard during this call.

"You know what I mean. Have you been doing your breathing exercises when you start to feel anxious?"

"Some. Probably not enough."

"Right. Did you get any sleep today?"

"Not really, no."

"Do you have time to sleep before your show tonight?"

"Not really, no."

The lack of sleep is not something the doctor can let go. Excessive fatigue is a major trigger for Emily's depression shifting from manageable to requiring medication to help control it. It is not automatic that she will spiral downwards, obviously, but it tends to magnify the possibility for Emily and that means that they need to address it right away.

"I'd like you to consider taking tonight off from work in that case. You know how important getting good sleep is for you."

"I'll think about it."

"Emily…"

"No really, I will. But it's not the easiest thing in the world to replace me on-air. And I'm not sure that sitting alone all night in my flat would be much better, either."

"Alright. That's a fair comment. But surely sitting alone in your flat isn't the only option you have if you don't work tonight."

Emily knows that Dr. Cochrane is probably right, and in truth, the idea of a respite from the kind of experience she had the night before when she sat behind the mic is pretty enticing.

"I will think about it. Thank you."

"Alright. How about we talk again next week? Unless of course, you need to chat before then."

Emily actually manages to smile as they say their good-byes. She feels better than she did that morning. She is still overwhelmed and more than a little worried, but feels a bit better equipped to deal with what is likely to occur.

Naomi, unfortunately is not having a similar experience. Her day has gone even further off the rails since she left the bridge.

She made it to her office only a few minutes later than usual and settled in to tackle the mound of files on her desk. Try as she might to focus, though, she couldn't keep the image of her last view of Emily on the bridge out of her head. Despite her best efforts to stay detached, she can't help but be affected by how distraught Emily looked.

She is lost in her thoughts when she is startled by a sharp knock on the door, which opens almost immediately to reveal the firm's Senior Partner in all his Saville Row, three piece-suited glory. He moves directly to Naomi's desk and drops a large accordion file on top of the papers she had been working on.

"'Morning, Campbell. I need a barrister in Magistrates Court tomorrow. File just came in. Important client. No one else is available to take it on such short notice, so you're it. Clear your calendar for today and tomorrow and make this your only priority until it's resolved."

Naomi is shocked, not only to have the Senior Partner standing in her office - an event that has never before occurred in all her time with the firm - but also that a file for a major firm client is being given to her without a more senior barrister involved to direct the defense.

"Uh, alright. Um, may I ask what the file is about?"

"Discharging pollutants into inland freshwaters. Bastard of a file, but I need you to take a thorough run at getting it dismissed. Defendant is our biggest corporate client, so it's all stops out, understood?"

Naomi blanches at his description, and her heart skips more than a couple of beats.

"P-p-pollution, sir? I don't… I mean, I don't defend pollution cases, sir. That was understood when I was hired. I can't…"

"Stop right there, Campbell. Not another word. Let me be crystal bloody clear. I don't care what you think was understood or when. This client needs a barrister and this firm needs this client. _You_ are what I have available so you will - and I trust that is very clear - you _will_ provide its defense. And you'll bloody well provide the best defense money can buy! Do you understand?"

Naomi looks up at the towering and decidedly irritated man and then does the only thing she can do. She agrees.

"Yes, sir."

She watches as the partner turns and leaves, slamming the door behind him to emphasize his annoyance.

"Fuck."

The expletive is muttered, but Naomi underscores it by flinging her pen across the room where it bounces off the opposite wall and comes to a stop on the carpet just underneath the client chair on the other side of her desk.

She can't believe that this is happening on top of everything else that she has to deal with right now. She's inclined to bugger off and take an early lunch instead of digging into the file, but she knows it might be worth her job to do so. Instead, she grudgingly shifts the other documents off her desk and onto the floor against the wall behind her desk and starts pulling the paperwork out of the accordion file.

She sees from the Information placed on the top of the file that there are five charges under the _Environmental Permitting (England and Wales) Regulations _for discharging massive quantities of industrial waste into the River Lee over a two-day period, killing masses of fish and fouling the waters for a long stretch. Each charge could result in a fine of up to £50,000, and as far as Naomi is concerned that's hardly enough.

"Fucking hell," Naomi mutters, "as if that river weren't in enough trouble!"

She starts digging through the documents, taking careful notes along the way. It takes her until late in the evening before she is done. She is just about to resign herself to losing the case when a tiny detail catches her attention. She is reviewing a letter from the company confirming the firm's retainer to defend it when she sees the corporate address: 1214 Hemlock Lane.

Her forehead wrinkles as she tries to figure out what it is about that that caught her eye. When it hits her, her eyes go wide in horror and she begins frantically flipping through the papers until she finds the search warrant used to access the plant and collect the data that proves the company was the source of the pollutants.

"Jesus _fucking_ Christ! Can't these idiots do _anything_ right?"

She sits there staring at the warrant for several minutes trying to figure out what to do.

1241. It says 1241 Hemlock instead of 1214. And just like that, every document the police collected under the search warrant is going to be ruled inadmissible. The warrant is premised on there being reasonable grounds to search the address identified in the warrant, and _only_ that address and the daft fuckers got it wrong.

Naomi quickly researches the issue on the case law database the firm subscribes to. It doesn't take long to confirm that she is right. Once she points out the error, the Magistrate will have no choice but to dismiss the charges. She considers for the tiniest moment not bringing it to the Court's attention error, but knows that she would violate her Code of Conduct obligations and she would risk disbarment, a complete end to her legal career. She's going to have to inform the Court and her client will get off scott-fucking-free.

Naomi is shattered, physically and emotionally, by the day and heart-sick at what she is going to have to do in the morning. She had started the day with such hope, but it has well and truly turned to rat shit now.

She hails a cab to take her home, too frustrated and tired to walk. The moment she walks through her door she shucks her coat and suit jacket and flings off her heels with a sigh of relief. She heads straight for the kitchen and the bottle of Jack, pouring out a large measure into a juice glass before heading into the living room and virtually falling onto the sofa. She gulps the drink, wincing at the bite as it goes down, but relishing the feeling as it hits her stomach and sends it raw warmth through her system.

She leans forward and grabs the remote and then shifts to lie down across the couch, lifting her aching feet to rest on the arm. She has felt the need all day to hear Emily's voice again, and somehow the shit storm of the new file has her wanting that, almost craving it, even more.

The quiet of the room is broken as the iPod springs to life. A song by the Muse is playing, she can't remember the title. It seems like an odd choice for Emily, but it's painless enough all the same. The same can't be said for the voice that follows - the very masculine voice that follows, which is clearly not Emily's.

Naomi sits up, her concern for her ex over-riding her worries about her own predicament. She waits, anxiously, for an explanation as to why Emily isn't there, but it never comes. She listens for almost an hour, hoping for an explanation, something innocuous and unrelated to their morning encounter. But there is nothing, not even a mention. They must have covered it at the top of the show. She considers texting Emily, but the idea of admitting that she actually listens to her show ends that line of thought almost before it begins. She considers asking Effy if she knows anything, but that doesn't seem much better. Finally, at 1 a.m. she decides to cash it in, knowing that she needs to try to get some sleep before the morning court debacle-to-be. But sleep is hard to find with all that is going on, and restless and uneasy once it arrives.

When her mobile sounds her alarm the next morning, Naomi is still exhausted. She hits snooze once more than she should have and ends up frazzled and rushed as well as tired before she even leaves the flat. She is about a block from her office when her mobile buzzes, and Emily's name flashes up at her.

"Thank fuck."

She swipes a finger across the screen and feels a wave of relief as she reads the message.

. _Still on tonight?_

She quickly composes her response with one hand by pulling open the building doors and waving to Jim, the security guard.

. _Yeah_

She unwittingly grins as her mobile buzzes again.

. _Ok see you tonight_

Naomi types in "Ok." She thinks about adding something more, something to find out if Emily is alright, but she can't decide what it should be so she leaves it as it is and hits sends.

She is running late, and so only has time to grab her briefcase from her office before heading right back out to Court. The morning goes as she had feared, with the Magistrate confirming that the warrant is invalid and the fruits of the search, including all the documents that proved her client was the polluter, is inadmissible. The Crown has no alternative but to withdraw the charges as they have no other evidence that they can introduce.

The client representative who attended the proceedings is ecstatically happy, calling her a "fucking magician" and promising to make sure her boss knows it. The whole idea of being congratulated for her morning's work disgusts Naomi. It just adds to her overall unease, and reminds her how very much she should never have taken this fucking job.

The rest of the day goes by in a blur, until finally it's time to meet Emily. Naomi can't wait to see her, and that frustrates her even more. After all she has been through because of Emily she shouldn't still feel this pull towards her, this sense that things will be better if only she can see her. It's ridiculous to still feel this way, after everything, and it makes her feel weak, like she's a push-over, something she is bound and determined not to be ever again.

She's been simmering in her irritation and anger for a while by the time she gets to the bakery, the agitation about work made worse by her frustrations about her feelings about meeting Emily. Casey notices as soon as Naomi walks into the shop.

"Hello, Luv! Didn't see you this morning…"

Casey, in her grandmotherly way, is already pouring up a cuppa, knowing well what Naomi's regular evening order is.

"Yeah. Ran late this morning, I'm afraid. Look, I'm meeting someone here, and I'm wondering if it would be alright for us to talk at the table towards the back for a bit?"

Casey smiles genuinely at the young woman she has grown fond of over the past years, before saying, "Of course, Luv. Whatever you need."

Naomi takes the hot cup with a nod of thanks and heads towards the table to wait for Emily. She has barely sat down before the door chime rings and Emily eases in, looking a little uncertain.

"Would you be looking for Naomi, then, my dear?" Casey's voice is warm, but her eyes are watchful, assessing.

Emily relaxes slightly at the welcoming voice, and nods her "yes."

"She's just through there towards the back. Would you like something to drink or eat before you join her?"

It's short work for Emily to give her order, a simple black coffee, and receive it gratefully from the shop owner. She gingerly makes her way to the back, worried about spilling the hot drink, but even more so about seeing Naomi again. Her heart is racing, as it has been doing on and off all day at the thought of this encounter. She is like a scared animal ready to bolt.

Naomi watches Emily approach through hooded, sheltered eyes, masking the whirl of emotions that she is struggling with.

"Hello. May I?" Emily gestures to the chair opposite Naomi, as though her question didn't make her intention clear enough.

"Of course."

Emily sits, placing her cup carefully onto the small, round table between them.

Neither one knows how to start this conversation, so instead they sip steadily at their drinks, the only sounds the soft whisper as they blow gently to cool the liquids, and the clicks and clacks of the cups returning to their saucers. It is a disquieting quiet.

Finally, Emily decides that small talk has to be better than no talk.

"Katie says you work for some big law firm…"

It is an unfortunate choice of topic given the day Naomi has had, but Emily couldn't know that.

"Yeah."

There is more uncomfortable silence, before Emily breaks it once again.

"How did that happen?"

That is not a topic Naomi wants to discuss, at all, so she is fairly abrupt in her response.

"Just kind of happened."

That answer causes Emily to finally make eye contact in surprise.

"I can't quite imagine that "just happening" to you."

Naomi chooses not to reply, knowing that she is unlikely to be able to do so without snapping Emily's head off. Emily isn't catching the clues, however, her own nervousness compelling her ask more questions to stave off having to answer them.

"It's not really you, is it, your job?"

Naomi sighs deeply.

"No. Not really."

"Do you enjoy it?"

Emily's curiosity is genuine. She cannot imagine Naomi doing this job in the first place, but she really can't imagine her doing it if she doesn't like it.

"No. Especially not today."

Naomi waves off Emily's next inquiry before it can be made. She doesn't want to talk about the case.

Emily contemplates her ex, before speaking again.

"So maybe it's time you change it?"

Emily's intentions are good, but she sparks Naomi's anger with her words and the reply is harsh and biting.

"I'm pretty sure it's not your place to have an opinion on that anymore."

Emily feels it like a knife cutting through her and it takes her breath away for a moment.

"…. No. I suppose not. I'm sorry."

Given how she was just shut down, Emily is unwilling to make another foray into chitchat, and so she waits, nervously twirling her cup in its saucer and studiously avoiding any eye contact with the pissed off woman across from her.

"I have questions, Emily."

The voice is hard, but Emily manages to risk a quick glance up at Naomi's face.

"I know."

Naomi holds her gaze, bolting Emily to her seat with the intensity.

"Will you answer?"

Emily gulps, bracing herself now that the topic has finally been broached.

"Yes. It's a long story. But yes, I will answer if I can. Can we… can we keep it simple to start. It's… it's not easy for me to talk about. And I am pretty sure it won't be easy for you to listen to."

"Alright. You went to Ireland?"

"Yes. Galway. You know, seaside, historic, lots of music everywhere. There was a job advert. Galway Bay FM. It seemed…. I needed to get out, and it seemed… I couldn't breathe here, Naomi. I couldn't think. I was so confused."

Emily squirms in her seat before continuing.

"I thought I would be better there. I hoped… But it was worse, actually, at first. I was in a new place, with a new job, and no friends. I spent forever just wandering the beaches, all by myself. Just trying to figure out what happened to my life."

She shakes her head. "You should have seen my mobile bills. All the calls and texts with Katie. It was ridiculous."

Her face falls as she remembers that time. "She was my lifeline then."

Naomi watches Emily, cataloguing each expression, each pause, each twitch. She examines Emily like a witness under cross-examination more than an ex-lover, working hard to be impervious to the sadness that she can see so clearly written across Emily's face.

"I saw someone there for a while."

Naomi tenses at those words, her head snapping to the left as she inhales sharply. Emily realizes how what she said could be interpreted and rushes to clarify.

"No… no, not like that. A counselor. I um…. I saw a counselor. I um… I needed help."

Naomi's eyes shift back to Emily at that, the surprise evident in her gaze.

"For what?"

And here it is, the thing that Emily has so much difficulty talking about, the thing that she has been dreading.

"For depression." Emily has to stop to clear her throat, which has closed up as she tries to say those words, her nerves sky-rocketing at the surprised expression that washes across Naomi's face.

" I was… I have… fuck."

She rubs her hands across her eyes, and then shakes them out at her sides.

"I just… It turns out I'd been fighting depression for a long time. That's part of what happened. With you, I mean. It's not an excuse. I know that. Lots of people have depression and they don't do what I did to you. But it did contribute, Naomi. It played a part. And it took me a while to understand it and to start feeling better. I um… I still have shaky days. Lots of them, lately. But I am doing better."

She stops then, waiting to see how Naomi will react. Naomi's thoughts have been thrown back to their last months together, and she can sense some of the pieces that had never fit start to slide into place. Naomi starts and stops a number of times before speaking. There are so many questions ricocheting around her head, so many emotions. In the ends she goes with, "When did it start?"

"The depression?"

At Naomi's nod, Emily continues.

"I'm not sure exactly. Probably around the start of your second year. It was manageable then. But it really kicked off when my internship ended. My shrink in Ireland thought it started as situational depression over that, and then turning chronic over time. She called it "walking depression", I guess, like, because you can keep functioning with it, sort of, even though you're a complete fucking mess."

Emily is deeply and obviously uncomfortable talking about this. She is ashamed. She still feels the stigma despite what Dr. Cochrane or Katie or Effy say. She feels like she should have been stronger, somehow, like she should have been able to fight it off. However ludicrous that is in reality she cannot quite accept that she bears no fault for what befell her.

Naomi sees her discomfort and tries to rein in her own agitation. She knows that her patience is short tonight because of her shitty day, and she is trying not to take that out on Emily. This is a huge thing to talk about and she can tell it bothers Emily. So she tries to respect that. She tries really hard.

"We can come back to that another time, if you like."

Emily exhales a deep and embarrassingly audible sigh of relief, and surprise.

"Thanks." She shares a true smile of gratitude, small, but sincere. It is the first real smile Emily has graced Naomi with since they met again. And it takes Naomi's breath away. She consciously gathers herself to regroup before asking another question.

"What else? You said it was partly the cause. What was the rest?"

Emily would almost prefer to go back to talking about depression than to answer that.

"Fuck this is hard to talk about."

Naomi just stares across the space between them, an eyebrow raised in a clear message that however hard it might be she wants Emily to comply if she can.

"I was angry. At you. And jealous."

Naomi's hackles rise and the restraint she is trying to hold onto falls away. She can't believe what she is hearing and the disbelief is evident in her voice.

"What the hell?"

"You got to go to school and have friends and do what you loved. I had none of that. And it started to make me angry that you did. Then that got blown out of proportion, it got skewed and twisted by the depression. I was sad and angry and everything was so _dark_. I lost perspective, I think. It was just… god, Naomi it was such a mess. _I_ was such a mess. I was so unhappy and worried and mad _all_ the time. It was like nothing could go right, nothing would go my way. My jobs were shit. I just… I lost my way."

Naomi settles a bit, at this explanation. But she is struck by just how much she missed seeing in those last days. It makes her defensive, and as usual for Naomi, that means she goes on offense.

"You never said. I mean, Jesus, you _agreed_ to all that. You agreed to my schooling and to working and… you fucking _agreed_."

Emily's hands are up facing Naomi in an effort to calm her down, to dispel the sting from her words.

"I know. I know. I'm not saying it makes sense, not completely. But you asked me what happened and I'm trying to tell you how I felt. I don't understand all of it myself now, looking back. But I think, then, that I felt that none of it mattered to you. That you just… as long as you got what you wanted, you didn't really care what happened to me. What I needed could wait so you could do your thing, you know?"

Naomi is left gaping like a fish at that revelation, before the anger she has been trying to hold in breaks free.

"The bloody fuck I didn't care!" She is half-way out of her seat before she even realizes it.

"Hey, please calm down, Naomi. Please don't shout. I _know_ you cared. I know that. But you didn't always _see_ me, Naomi. You have to know that? That's the truth. Whatever reasons there may have been for it, I fell to pieces and you didn't notice. For months, you didn't notice. At least not enough. And you kept making choices that drove me mad. And I know, I _know_ that maybe I shouldn't have reacted the way I did, but you have to understand that it was really fucking _hard_ for me then. I mean, there was everything with Cook, and Christmas with my Mom, and the whole Jessica thing, and it just…"

"Again with fucking Jessica? You can't seriously fucking believe…"

"Hey! I asked you not to shout at me! You said you wanted to hear this. So do you or not?"

Naomi leans back into her chair, breathing hard and trying desperately to bring herself back under control. When it looks as though Naomi is ready to continue, Emily begins again.

"No, to answer your question, I didn't really believe you were cheating with Jessica. But I believed… I actually _still_ believe that she would have had you if you'd been willing. And you knew that her being around you upset me, but you still kept joining study groups with her, time after time."

"Yeah, and I made sure to tell you about it and to tell you there was bloody well nothing to it."

Emily stares across at Naomi, not quite believing that Naomi still couldn't see how disrespectful that was.

"Yes, you did. But you also decided to keep doing it despite knowing my feelings on the subject, so what was I supposed to do then? You told me, and my only option was to accept it. To suck it up and accept it. Do you have any idea how much that hurt me?"

Naomi stares back, stunned by what she is hearing, trying to digest it and finding herself re-evaluating that part of their history through this new lens. She doesn't comment, but her anger dissolves a bit, shunted aside by a burgeoning sense of disquiet. Emily also tries to calm herself down before continuing.

"At the end, I couldn't see any way that I could be happy unless I changed… everything. I can see now that wasn't the case, but then… it felt like I was drowning, just disappearing in the darkness. And I just… I really couldn't keep on another minute. I wish it hadn't happened. I really do."

The strain of the conversation is taking its toll on the two women, and both take a moment to breathe and consider. Naomi is the first one to speak.

"I went to see you. I went all the way to Bristol and you shut me out. You shut me out completely. I poured my heart out to you and you bloody shut me down like a brick fucking wall!"

Naomi manages to keep the tears from spilling from her eyes, but only just, the pain of those days still fresh and deep.

"I know. God, I am so sorry. About that more than anything, I think. I am _so_ sorry."

"You left me with the house, all your clothes. I had to deal with all of it Emily, and with losing you. Jesus, I almost flunked my year! Did you know that? If Gina hadn't waded in and got me a special dispensation to defer some exams I would have flunked out, lost everything I had worked for. I was a complete mess, Emily, because of you."

The tears fall now, making stark tracks on Naomi's pale face.

Emily blanches, struck by a wave of nausea as she begins to face the full scope of the damage she caused, whether intentionally or not. Naomi's voice is hoarse as she continues.

"Do you know what it was like packing up that house? Selling it? Can you even imagine what it felt like for me to lock the door behind me for the last time? To look back and know that everything we dreamed of in that place was gone? There weren't enough tears in the world for that kind of pain, Emily, for that kind of sorrow. Not nearly fucking enough."

Emily cannot hold back her own tears by this point, devastated by the visceral grief that Naomi is revealing.

"I am so, so sorry, Naoms."

The reaction is swift and almost violent.

"No! No, you don't get to call me that. Not anymore. And you _don__'__t_ get to make this better with a fucking "sorry"!"

Emily shrinks back away from Naomi who has once again risen from her seat to lean across the table, and brings her hands up to her ears to try to block out Naomi's shouting.

"Okay. Stop. You have to stop! Please. I need you not to do that. I've… I will talk to you, but you have to stop. You have to treat me with respect, Naomi. You can't bully me and yell at me when I say something you don't like. You can't, because I can't handle it, okay. I just can't."

A sob catches in her throat as Emily tries to manage this crisis and cling to some measure of calm so she won't decompress into a panic attack. Naomi instantly recognizes the signs, having become excessively familiar with them due to her own struggles. It strikes her how much has changed in such a short while. She has gone from being the one suffering from panic attacks to being the one to almost cause one and that realization chastens her, helping her to manage her temper. She sings out to Casey to ask for a glass of water for Emily and collects it before returning to her seat. She can't bring herself to apologize, but she hopes that Emily will appreciate the gesture for what it is. Emily takes a few sips from the water, the sensation of the cool liquid helping to ground her and to calm her. She speaks again when she can manage it without her voice trembling. Her tone is resigned when she resumes.

"It wasn't all me, Naomi. I accept my responsibility, and I know I bear the greatest fault. But it wasn't me who brought Cook back into our lives, and… and bitched at me for no reason all through exams… and… did fucking nothing to keep up the house. And… Jesus… who didn't fucking notice that I was falling to absolute _pieces_. So, yeah, I fucked up. I know that. I accept that. I fucked up hugely, especially about how I left and I am genuinely sorry for it. But you aren't completely innocent here, Naomi. So you need to stop talking about me owing you, and you have to stop yelling at me and treating this like it's all about me having messed you up like it's so black and fucking white. There's a lot more to it than that."

This is not how Naomi expected this night to go. She didn't expect to hear about depression. And she didn't expect to hear just how much she managed not to see. Her resentment is still getting the better of her as she clings to it to avoid descending into endless tears. She sees Casey look over worriedly and knows that they should stop. In her state of mind it can't be productive to keep going. The day has been too long and too frustrating and this is way more than she can handle on top of it.

"You're right. You're right, this isn't helping. It's been a long day, and I think… I think we need a break. I need a break. But I'm not done. Not yet. So… I'd like if you would meet me again. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe the next day, I think. I like if you would tell me everything. Even the stuff I might not want to hear."

Emily looks at Naomi, still reeling from the overwhelming whirlpool of emotions their conversation has evoked.

"Okay."

"Good. I'm gonna… I'm gonna go."

Naomi rises slowly from the table, feeling stones heavier than usual as the fatigue and emotion of the day crash down on her. She starts to take a step way before stopping.

"See you here again, day after tomorrow?"

That was their plan. They would meet again until they have said it all. Emily isn't sure after this night whether it is still a good idea, but perhaps this night is not the time to decide that.

"…Okay."

Naomi makes her way out of the shop under, not even bothering to wave to Casey on her way out and too preoccupied to notice.

Casey has unobtrusively watched the conversation unfold, out of earshot except on those occasions when Naomi raised her voice, but still able to see and interpret what she was seeing. She is worried that this new person is going to hurt Naomi, whom she has come to care about. Her protective nature won't allow her to let the incident pass without some comment, and so she grabs the coffee pot to provide an excuse and approaches the table where Emily still sits.

"Refill?"

Emily startles, too lost in her thoughts to have heard Casey approach.

"Oh! Oh. No, thank you."

"May I offer some words of wisdom, then?"

Casey doesn't actually wait for an answer before moving on.

"I've spent a fair amount of time watching that woman in this shop," she says, pointing to where Naomi just exited. "First thing in the morning, last thing at night, studying for bar exams, prep'ing for trials… I've seen it all. And never in all that time have I seen her as uncontained as she was here tonight. Her face lit up when she saw you, although she hid that right quick. And then it was as stormy as a thundercloud when she left. I don't know if you're good for her or bad for her, young lady. But there is no doubt that you have the ability to affect her a great deal. I don't think she's ever left here without saying good-bye to me in all the years I've known her. So, whatever is going on between you, I'll ask you to keep that in mind, and to treat her gently."

Emily cannot speak, so she just nods her comprehension, grateful to have some confirmation that the connection she still craves continues to exist at some level. What that will mean long-term she has no idea. In fact, about the only thing she knows for sure is that she never wants to go through a night like this again. And yet even so, she cannot imagine how she will get through the hours before they meet again.

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**~o0o~**

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**So, they are talking (and a bit of yelling) and they want to keep talking (and hopefully not yelling). Progress! It felt good to bring some of the rest of the world back into the story. Let me know if you agree or if you hated the world intruding on them. (You remember how, right? The cute little button just over there…)**

**Cheers, Crev**


	16. Chapter 16 - With an S on my Chest

**Okay, so I fairly obviously blew my "I'll try to post once a week" plan out of the water. Sorry folks. Will try to keep on track but it is a little tough to find chunks of writing time at the moment, so bear with me please. Also, I think there are some folks who reviewed whom I have not yet had a chance to answer. Apologies!**

**Should probably reiterate that I don't own Skins. 'Cause that is such a surprise…**

**.**

**~o0o~**

**.**

**Chapter 16 - **_**With an S on my Chest**_

…_**Now**_

Naomi can't stop thinking about it. She runs over it again and again in her mind, every nuance, every detail on a macabre loop. Each moment of the meeting with Emily haunts her as she second-guesses not only each of her own reactions, but also so much of what she had been so sure that she knew about their shared past.

Naomi is pissed when she gets home. Really, monumentally pissed that Emily had the gall to blame her for any of it. Jesus, they had _agreed_ to it, _all_ of it, together. Sure, some of it Naomi kind of went ahead and did first and then talked to Emily about later, like inviting Cook to stay, and the whole study group with Jessica thing. But fucking hell, it's not like Emily was going to say no, right? Naomi had known back then that Emily would say yes. Emily _always_ said yes. So why wait to ask when the outcome was a sure thing?

Fucking ridiculous. Isn't it?

She has the freezer open to pull out the bottle of vodka that she keeps there for emergencies when she reins herself in. As upset as she is, this is something she needs a clear head to think through. So she slams the freezer shut again, causing the fridge to rattle against the granite counter for a beat or two, and then plops herself down at the breakfast bar with her head in her hands.

She can't be blamed for what happened, could she? She can't be blamed for not expecting it, for not seeing it? Because really, when you think about it, Emily _always_ managed to cope with whatever came her way. She handled Katie during college (eventually), she got past the bloody awful Sophia debacle (eventually), she handled Jenna's initial callousness about her being gay (eventually), she helped Naomi and Effy and Katie survive Freddie's death and Cook's disappearance, and dealt with her own grief (eventually). She always managed to cope, (eventually). Sure, she fell apart a bit after she found out about Sophia. The fact that she voluntarily allowed Mandy to have any place in her life was proof fucking positive of how far off the rails she went back then. But she got over it. She got past it. Just like she always did. Eventually.

Emily always just got on with getting on. And she took care of everyone while she was at it. Even bloody JJ, though Naomi really fucking hates thinking about that. So, with Emily always taking care of everyone and always rolling with the punches and always managing to cope with whatever happened to hit her, how the hell was Naomi supposed to have known that she had stopped coping, that she had stopped being able to handle it all? She couldn't have known, right? Right.

And but for the incredibly irritating, nagging feeling in Naomi's heart of hearts that, yes, maybe, perhaps she ought to have noticed something, perhaps she should have paid a bit more attention, perhaps there were enough warning signs if she'd just opened her fucking eyes…. well, but for that nagging feeling Naomi might be able to sleep.

But she can't shake the feeling. And it is messing with her head. She had built the past years of her life around being the victim in the disaster that was their break-up. She had cast Emily as the unquestioned villain and herself as the poor, hard-done-by sap who got broken into pieces by Emily's unprompted cruelty. To find out that the story might not be quite so cut and dried is disconcerting to say the least. Although, if she really looks at the complete picture objectively, with the distance that time has brought, Naomi has to admit that it is not _entirely_ surprising in retrospect. Nothing about what she knew about Emily pre-split had given her any reason to believe that Emily was even capable of being intentionally cruel. Because of that, it has always felt to Naomi that she was missing a part of the puzzle, something key. And now… now she knows that is true.

Depression. Fuck. Naomi had not seen that coming. Not at all. But it makes sense, when she thinks about it. It helps fill in the gaps. It doesn't explain everything, like why Emily shut Naomi down so coldly in Bristol. But Naomi is starting to wonder exactly what effect it did have. Could it really explain some of what happened? Naomi knows that if she is going to be able to make peace with any of this, she is going to have to find out. She knows very little about depression other than whatever dribble pop culture spews out about it, and some dribs and drabs that she has picked up from Effy on the extremely rare occasions when Effy has spoken about her own challenges, and none of that really adds up to something that she can describe as "knowledge" with a straight face.

Naomi is pretty sure that Emily will tell her, if she asks. But she is not sure that she is comfortable with doing that so soon. It feels too personal, in a way. And Emily had not seemed comfortable talking about it with even the little bit they managed to discuss at the bakery.

Naomi knows that she could probably google it and get some kind of information, but it is so hard to figure out if you've landed on a whack-job or a legitimate site, that she doesn't want to go that route if she can help it. She decides that she will drop into a bookstore on her way home from work the next day, and see if there is a "Depression for Dummies" text that can educate her on at least some of the basics.

Maybe then she'll be able to shake that nagging feeling. But she doubts it. She is pretty sure, in fact, that she is going to be facing a lot of shades of grey instead of the nice black and white picture that she thought she knew. She is not at all sure how she feels about that.

It hurts her to think of Emily feeling so lost, feeling that she could not reach out to ask Naomi for help. It breaks Naomi's fucking heart, if she's honest. So does seeing Emily struggle to face her now. Naomi feels like shit for scaring her earlier. That was _not_ the plan. She lost her temper, and she should not have let that happen. And she knows that she would give a lot to never be the cause of that expression on Emily's face or that shake in her voice ever again.

Fuck. Whatever Naomi thought these talks were going to be like, that wasn't it. She is glad they agreed to meet only every second day, because she needs a little time to figure all this out, and to prepare herself better for the next time they talk.

Enough. It's late and she needs to sleep. Or at least to try to. She thinks, fleetingly, of firing up the iPod for a listen to see if Emily is back doing her show, but decides that she has had enough emotional roller-coaster-ing for one night. Instead, she walks through her bed time routine in the loo, and then peels off her clothes and crawls into bed. Her last thought before she slips into a restless, dream-filled sleep is, "What a fucking day."

When morning comes, Naomi hardly feels rested. She has warred with her bedding all night, and has the bed-head to prove it. She'll have to completely remake the bed before sleeping in it again. Her mood matches the disarray of her blankets as she rushes to get ready for work. She has to deal with the fall-out from her big "win" today, which is enough to put her in a foul mood before she even leaves her apartment.

She skips her usual bakery visit, too embarrassed to see Casey after storming out without saying good-bye the night before. She'll make amends some other time, when her temper is not a ticking time bomb just waiting to be set off. Naomi feels badly, though, about not supporting the shop, so she skips her coffee run altogether, deciding to suck it up with the crap stuff that is brewed at work.

When she enters the building she waves her usual "hello" to Jim and heads to the elevator. The insipid Musak playing as it ascends all 29 floors causes her irritation to raise another notch or two. Bloody, fucking Kenny G. Seriously!? But that is only the beginning. What really sets her off hits her just as she steps off the elevator and into the reception area.

As soon as the receptionist recognizes Naomi, she stands up from behind her desk and starts a slow clap. Then she grabs a newspaper from off her desk and walks over to hand it to Naomi. "Front page, Ms. Campbell! Above the fold, even. The boss is pretty tickled, I must say! Well done."

Naomi is still trying to piece together what the hell the woman is talking about when she looks down at the paper in her hand and sees the headline:

_. Barrister Exposes Bobbies' Blunder as River Ruiner Runs Free_

Not exactly Shakespeare, but clear enough to send Naomi's heart plummeting into her stomach before she reads a single word of the article below.

She moves in a daze towards her office, forgetting entirely to stop for coffee on the way, as she reads with increasing horror the coverage of the trial that wasn't.

_. Barrister Naomi Campbell of Jenkins Rawlins LLP was able to persuade the Magistrate that the search warrant was  
. defective, and as a direct result all charges against the company were withdrawn for lack of evidence._

Fucking hell. Fucking, fucking _fucking_ hell!

Naomi is appalled. She can't get out of the hallway fast enough. She is grateful that Sam isn't at her desk yet, so she doesn't have to face her sympathetic stare. Sam will know exactly how upsetting this is for Naomi. They have talked before about Naomi's environmental leanings, and the various anti-pollution demonstrations Naomi has attended over the years. Sam even accompanied Naomi to an anti-fracking demonstration in Balcome just last August. Naomi just cannot face her right now.

She enters her office and closes the firmly behind her, leaning her back up against it as she clutches the damning paper to her chest. "Jesus, _please_ don't let Gina hear about this!"

Naomi is still leaning against door when she hears, and feels, a soft knock. She takes a deep breath, and turns around to open the door. She doesn't know whether to be relieved or not when she sees that it is Sam on the other side.

"Good morning, Naomi. I am so sorry to bother you. I ran into Angelica at reception, so I know you must want a little time to yourself. But Ms. Stewart just rang. Mr. Jenkins wants you in his office, pronto."

Naomi can't stop the groan that these words inspire from escaping, and Sam smiles a gentle smile in sympathy. Naomi reluctantly hangs up her coat and grabs a note pad and pen. Could this day get any worse?

She takes the elevator up to the top floor, and then heads to the Senior Partner's corner office – the largest one in the firm, of course, with all the trappings one might imagine. She is announced by Ms. Stewart and then ushered into the sweeping room. She is pretty sure that it is designed to make every step of the 6 or so metres that one must cross to get to the desk as intimidating as possible for everyone who enters. Mr. Jenkins is seated behind the mahogany desk – which is about the size of a small aircraft carrier – looking very self-important. He does not bother to rise to greet Naomi, he being very much too important and she being not nearly important enough for him to exert himself in such a manner. He does, however, motion to her to take a seat in one of the over-stuffed brown leather arm chairs on the "guest" side of his desk.

Naomi sits, nervously, crossing her legs and then uncrossing them again as she tries, in vain, to get comfortable.

"Well, well, Ms. Campbell, nice work yesterday, my dear, very nice work indeed."

Given that the five minutes they spent together the day before was the first time that Naomi had ever been in the same room with Mr. Jenkins other than during the de rigueur Christmas party appearances and other such across-the-room sightings, she is not overly impressed with use of the term of endearment, but she is not really in a position to object. Instead, she simply nods and chokes out a begrudging, "Thank you, Sir."

"The client was very congratulatory, very congratulatory indeed! It's a good sign for partnership, my dear. You may have the stuff for a promising career. I've had my doubts, truth be told, but I can't deny you handled yourself well on this case. And the press! Lovely media coverage for the firm. Just lovely. That's the stuff we want from you, dear. Good results and good press. A perfect mixture."

"Um. Yes, well, um, thank you again, Sir."

Naomi cannot wait for this encounter to be over. She knows that she cannot leave until she is dismissed, but fuck, to have this prick preen over her for getting a fucking _polluter_ off? One that everyone including the both of them knows did exactly what it was accused of? She can hardly stand the hypocrisy of it, and she can feel the bile rising in her throat.

"There's more good news, uh… Naomi, isn't it? Yes, quite. Naomi. The client has asked that you represent them on all future charges laid against them. I have agreed, of course. So, there you have it. You have your first dedicated client. Well done."

Naomi couldn't really grasp much of what Jenkins said after she realized that this shit-ass company was actually _planning_ on getting charged again, they were _planning_ on continuing to pollute! That thought makes her absolutely crazy. She interrupts whatever bullshit platitude her boss has started to spouting. "No. I'm sorry, Sir, but I cannot represent them. I won't. I don't represent polluters. That was my arrangement when I came to this firm and I am not willing to break it."

Jenkins is so taken aback by being interrupted – something no one dares to do to him – and by an associate, a mere peon of a cog of an associate _daring _to say no to him that he cannot quite formulate a response for a moment. But when he does, it is impressive and borderline terrifying.

"Now you listen here, Missy. Who do you think you are? I am the Senior Partner of this firm, the person who signs your _pay cheques_, and when I tell you to handle a file or to take care of a client that is _precisely_ what I expect you to do. No excuses and no balking. I don't care one whit what "arrangement" you think you have, you will do what I tell you to do or not only will you not have to worry about whether or not you will make partner, you will no longer work here. Do I make myself clear? You won't stay the company pet no matter how many cases you win unless you get your priorities in line. What is good for the firm _is_ what is good for you, and you either understand that or you do not belong here."

He eases back into his chair to watch the effect of his words on the young woman before him, fully expecting her to cower and grovel for forgiveness, as so many before her have done. Clearly, he does not know her well.

Naomi does consider his words, very carefully. But they have a far different effect than he intended. She has moment of striking clarity while sitting there. She thinks about all the doubts that she has carried since she started with the firm, the embarrassment she feels when she has to tell old friends about her job. She thinks of Emily's questioning words in the park. She thinks of the multitude of conversations with Gina exhorting her to follow her passion instead of her pay cheque. And she realizes, without a shade of a doubt, that she does not want it. She does not want anything that Jenkins Rawlins can offer her, especially not at the cost of her integrity and her principles. Once that realization strikes, she leans back calmly in her chair in a sly parody of her boss' movements.

"You are right, Sir. You are absolutely right. I _do_ have to get my priorities in line. And that is what I am going to do."

Naomi let's that sit as she watches Jenkins' feral grin grow deeper as he assumes that she is giving in. Just before he opens his gob again, so stands up and leans onto the edge of his desk. "Yes, indeed, you are right. I absolutely do not belong here. So, I quit. You will have my resignation letter within the hour. I'm going to assume that you will waive the notice period…?"

With that Naomi turns and strides towards the doorway, not even bothering to try to hide the enormous smile that is taking over her face as the relief and happiness of her decisions overtakes her. She is free. She is finally fucking free of this monolithic tribute to wealth and greed.

Mr. Jenkins is completely gob-smacked by what has transpired, to the point that, for once in his life he is struck dumb. He cannot marshal a response before Naomi has left his office. She is actually stepping onto the lift when she hears him bellow for his secretary. Poor woman, she is likely to have a very bad day after this.

Naomi heads back to her own office, and beckons Sam inside, shutting the door behind them. She quickly explains to Sam what she has done, not sure just how long she has before security comes to escort her out. Sam promises to box up all of Naomi's personal effects and the deliver them to Naomi at home in the next couple of days so that Naomi can make a quick escape from the building. It feels a bit unprofessional to Naomi to leave her files without ensuring they are transferred to another barrister, but she knows enough about the workings of this firm to know that she will never be allowed to stay long enough to do that anyway. So, she thanks Sam sincerely for everything, and leaves her cel. number with invitation for Sam to join her for a drink any time.

Naomi's eyes are gleaming and she can't shake the grin from her face as she heads out of the building for the last time. It is unnerving not to know what will come next, hugely so, but it is exhilarating, too. She tosses her name tag to Jim on the way out, with a quick, "All yours Jimmy Boy. I won't be needing it any more. You take care of yourself!"

As she walks down the pavement towards home, Naomi has no idea what she is going to do now. But she has money in the bank, more than enough to float on for a while. And in walking away, she feels the most free that she has in years.

She almost trips over her feet when she realizes that her first thought was that she has to tell Emily. Not Cook, or Gina or Effy. But Emily. She chooses not to think too hard about that, writing it off to the fact that Emily has been on her mind so much over the past couple of days, and instead pulls out her mobile and fires off a text to Cook.

. _Free at last! Finally dumped my dickhead job. Come celebrate with me?_

Cook's answer comes fast and predictably: "_Abso -fucking-lutely_!_ Off at 3. Will head ur way after. Good on u Blondie!"_

Naomi sends another text to Effy, who had been the recipient of many a diatribe about Jenkins Rawlins during their period of weekly movie and coffee nights.

._ Just quit my job. No, I'm not joking. Yes, I am freaking, but not too much._

Effy's answer takes a little longer to arrive, and is slightly less predictable. "_Proud of you. When you've sobered up from celebrating with Cook, call me. Coffee's on me given you're a jobless punter now xo"_

Of course Effy would assume that Naomi would celebrate with Cook. Bloody wizard. But it's too early to start drinking – well maybe not for Cook, but for Naomi it is – so she heads home to her flat to change and to get a little rest. She forgets entirely about hitting the bookstore as the two restless nights in a row and the stress of the confrontation with Jenkins have left her pretty drained. Right now a nap sounds like fucking heaven.

She wakes up to a pounding on the door signaling the arrival of Cook. Apparently 4 p.m. is as late as he is willing to wait to fête this particular milestone in his best friend's life. Naomi lets him in without a word, and simply points him to the sofa in the lounge while she heads back to her bedroom to change.

Once she is appropriately attired, they make the rounds of their favourite haunts, starting at a pub for a bite and a pint or two, following that with a hotel bar that holds a late happy hour and serves killer vodka martinis, and finishing off at a little bistro with good pasta and cheap wine. They are polishing off a serving of pannacotta (her) and cannoli (him) when Cook finally steers the conversation around to the reason for the outing, which, surprisingly, they have been avoiding – well, Naomi has been avoiding – all evening.

"About fucking time, Blondie. Well overdue, you quitting that place."

Naomi has had just enough time now to be experiencing a little angst about her decision and just enough drink to talk about it. "Yeah. It's brilliant. What the fuck am I going to do now?"

"Come on then, Blondie. It's not as if you don't have money stashed, right? With all you were making as a hot shit solicitor you never spent any of it except on fucking shoes. So, relax. Take a break. And use some of that stash to give yourself time to figure out what you really want to do with those mad skills of yours, yeah? You know. Like, think about what will actually give you some bloody satisfaction for a change. Like somefing that'll make you want to get up in the morning, right? And then do that. Simple."

"Simple. Right. If I knew what the fuck I wanted to do I'd be doing it, wouldn't I?"

Cook lets her words roll off him. He's been on the receiving end of a lot worse than that from Naomi over the years, so he ignores it and carries on. "Have you told Gina yet, then?"

Naomi's vehement head shake is enough to get her answer across, but she adds in a strangled, "No. No, not yet."

"Why not?" Cook is genuinely surprised. He knows Gina and Naomi have their issues, but Gina's going to be fucking over the moon about this. "She'll be bloody delighted, she will."

"I know. That's partly why I haven't rung her. I'm not sure I'm ready to cope with all the implied "I told you so" aspects of that conversation without wanting to throttle her."

The image is entertaining for Cook, but he loves Gina, who has always been good to him, so he feels he has to call Naomi on her shit just a bit.

"Now, Blondie, you know she means well. She just wants you to be happy. And she's been worried about you…"

"I know. I do, Cook. I know. And I will talk to her, I promise."

Cook appraises his friend across the table, taking in how tired she looks, and the strain that is showing around her eyes. It has been a rough few weeks.

"You might want to think about going back for a visit for a bit. You know, now that you've got nothing else to do, that is."

Rather than answer out loud, Naomi reaches out and kicks him under the table, hard, and not for the first time that night. He just laughs at her.

"Seriously, though, you know she'd love to see you."

"Yeah. I'll think about it, Cook. I promise."

Cook knows when he should back off, and that time has definitely come.

"Right. Time to call it, Love. I've got the early shift. Gotta open at 7, so time for me to head home. Come on then. Let's find you a cab, alright?"

"Of course. And thank you, Cook. For being here. You're an arsehole, but you're alright."

"Ha! Damn right. Don't let no one tell ya different!"

He is good as his word, and walks her to the cab stand, giving her a patented Cookie bear-hug before handing her into the back seat. It is a short-ish ride back to her flat, and does not give Naomi quite enough time to wind down. So when she is back home, she hangs up her coat and kicks off her shoes, and answers to the siren song of the iPod and Emily's show. She can't help but wonder if Emily is back on the air tonight, and she can hardly deny the fact that despite everything, it would be nice to hear her voice after the day she has had.

Naomi checks the clock and realizes that the show hasn't started yet, so she decides to change out of her clothes and into sweats and an old LSE hoodie before settling onto the sofa. She makes it with a few minutes to spare and has to suffer through a series of bad adverts and the weather before she hears the theme song to Emily's show play. And then she hears Emily's distinctive voice welcoming listeners to the program. She chatters on about this and that for a few moments, laying out some of the items that will appear later in the program. And then she says something that has Naomi flying forward on the couch, until her hands come to rest on the coffee table on either side of the iPod dock.

_So, I heard today that an old friend has made a huge change in her life, and it got me thinking about this song. I don't know if she's listening, but just in case, this is for her. It's called, "Superwoman" and it's by Alicia Keys._

Oh my God. Effy and her big fucking mouth!

_Everywhere I'm turning  
Nothing seems complete_  
_I stand up and I'm searching_  
_For the better part of me_  
_I hang my head from sorrow_  
_state of humanity_  
_I wear it on my shoulders_  
_Gotta find the strength in me_

Naomi can't move. She is struck still through the whole first verse. She can't believe what she's hearing. It has been years since she heard this song and she has to focus to make out the lyrics. She leans forward towards the iPod, eyes closed tightly, and ears straining to catch every word.

_For all the mothers fighting  
For better days to come  
And all my women,  
all my women sitting here trying  
To come home before the sun  
And all my sisters  
Coming together  
Say yes I will  
Yes I can_

Sweet Jesus, it is "I think you can do anything" all over again. And just like that, Naomi is back in college, lying on her bedroom floor as her heart entwined itself strand by strand with the red-haired pixie who was invading her space and her soul.

_Cause I am a Superwoman  
Yes I am  
Yes she is  
Even when I'm a mess  
I still put on a vest  
With an S on my chest  
Oh yes  
I'm a Superwoman_

Tears are streaming down Naomi's face as the song comes to an end, but she doesn't even notice. She switches off the machine, needing time to assimilate all that she has heard and felt. She can't believe that Emily chose this song for her. She chose it and she played it and she _adopted_ it, basically, as an anthem for Naomi. She has just used it to pretty much declare that she thinks Naomi is a superwoman of sorts, that to send the message yet again that she think that Naomi can do anything and _fuck_ there was a time when that was _all_ that Naomi wanted, when that would be been all that it would take to make Naomi the happiest person on earth.

But it has all gotten so bloody complicated, hasn't it. And yes, this is awesome and amazing and all kinds of wonderful and it fills Naomi's heart in a very particular way that she had been sure that she would never feel again. But after all that they have been through, after everything that has happened between them and all the time that has passed, Naomi is nowhere near sure that it can be enough, that it can be a start to something different, something new. Despite all the feelings that the song has rekindled in her about Emily, and about them together, she is nowhere near certain at all. But then again, she is no longer quite so certain that it can't be enough either, at least for a start. And what the fuck is she supposed to do with _that_?

.

~o0o~

.

**Anti-fracking is a huge issue in my part of the world right now in a way that has made international headlines because of the on-going civil disobedience taking place to try to halt the testing near fresh water sources. Unfortunately, the clashes recently became violent, and there is no great faith that they will not become violent again. So far no one has been hurt, but it is scary as hell for all concerned. It is sheer coincidence that there was an actual anti-fracking rally in England this past summer, but once I read about it during my research for this chapter, I knew I wanted to include it here. It is a serious issue, with the potential for unpredictable and devastating long-term consequences. If it is an issue in your neck of the woods, I encourage you to get informed, and take a stand. End of PSA. Sorry for the mini-rant.**

**Also, quick reminder that I am a lawyer, so please don't take the big firm bashing too much to heart. Not my scene, but I don't actually think _every_one who works for one is a punter who hates the environment and only lives to make more money. Just taking some latitude for the sake of the story.**

**Finally, I realize there was no Emily in this chapter, but it felt as though Naomi needed a little time to work through her thoughts after the bakery encounter. Who knows, maybe Emily will get her chance next. Then again, maybe not - my inspiration seems to have a mind of its own at the moment. I'd love it if you'd let me know your thoughts. Review button is just below.**

**Crev**


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